


A Question of Trust

by KrisWolf



Series: The Questions series [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Magic, Creepy Gerard, Derek Has Issues, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Different werewolf mythology, Drunk Stiles, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mystery, No Hale Fire, Original Character(s), POV Stiles, Protective Derek, Scott is popular, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Shapeshifting, Skinwalkers - Freeform, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles' mom isn't dead, Stiles' mom left, The Hales were murdered, Wolf Derek, kiss, native american folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 75,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisWolf/pseuds/KrisWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange things are happening in Beacon Hills. People are disappearing and being attacked, all while Scott is having blackouts and Derek Hale is back in town distracting Stiles more than he wants to admit.<br/>Honestly, all Stiles wants is to find out what is happening, but no one seems to be telling him the truth...</p><p> </p><p>The 3rd part is being posted, please check it out <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger Things Have Happened... Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This story won't be a lot like the TV-series since I am playing with the usual werewolf mythology and seeing how it affects the characters and the story, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3  
> For those who love Derek (like me), he won't show up until next chapter but from there on he will be in every chapter going forward.  
> More of the characters will appear as the story progresses, but I am just only tagging them when they show up in the chapters I have already posted. 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments, it is my first fic so I am pretty excited to se what you all think.  
> Please let me know if I should add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe  
>  
> 
> I don't own Teen Wolf or the characters

Floating just below the surface, everything feels so easy, so effortless. As long as I stay here I can forget about everything above water for a few precious seconds where the quite darkness consumes me.

The liberating sensation where everything fades away with the light when I find myself under water leaves me feeling this happy oblivion I pray will last every time.

But when air reaches my lungs again, light and reality come along for ride shattering everything. Then the tears start pressing to come out while I scream at the universe for allowing so many of my life to change when the one thing I want to change never will.

Every time I force myself to stop, because I can’t afford to keep doing this. I can’t afford to let all of these emotions break me, so I remind myself of the glass ornaments above my grandparents’ fireplace I used to break.

The first time it happened, I was only four years old, so I thought the world was going to end. But then my grandma took my hand and we slowly started reassembling those tiny pieces of glass.

So every time I fall apart, every time I break, I force myself to reassemble all those pieces of myself, knowing it will never quite be the same. Like those ornaments I will always carry the marks of the impact of those moments.

As the water vapor disappear, the mirror deals out its daily blow. The instant I see the guy staring back at me, whose geeky appearance will always be too average to stand out, the torture begins. No one is going to turn their heads after the guy with the big brown eyes and the buzz cut hair because there is nothing remarkable about him. He might as well not exist.

All people seem to talk about is how looks aren’t everything because, in the end, personality wins out. The only thing, I have to say to those people is that they need to stop kidding themselves. Even the greatest personalities can’t compensate for shitty looks and I would know. I am speaking from experience.

I might have a contagious smile and a flare for comedy, but I doubt anybody would care about the funny kid with the freckles and the big smile if his best friend didn’t happen to be the most popular guy at school.

They say it is all about not caring about what everybody thinks, the key to popularity I mean, and I can’t imagine how much easier my life would be if that was true. It’s not like I don’t care, honestly, I care too much. I don’t want to be one of the loners with no friends, no life, only waiting for college to come along so they can embark on what they assume will be some great journey to success where they will be able to say it was all meant to be in the end.

Absurdly enough, to prevent myself from becoming one of them I have to live up to the norms of society. I have to be what society dictates as in, which often involves being a hell of a lot like all the others. I am forced to deeply ordinary.

So how different am I really from those loners I never want to become?

 

* * *

 

My family will never be one of those sit-around-the-dinner-table-nuclear-families. Mainly because it is only me and my dad and we have decided on a silent agreement to avoid each other as much as possible, which I have to say has worked out great for everybody involved.

He doesn’t lecture about what I should do and shouldn’t do, because we both know I am going to do what I want and in return I don’t embarrass him by getting into trouble. Not that he would actually notice if I did. He barely shows his face around the house as it is.

Usually this agreement involves him leaving the house long before I even consider leaving my bed in the morning, but strangely enough this particular morning, he is drinking his coffee by the kitchen counter with an expression that makes me more than a little nervous when I make my way down the stairs.

This only happens when he is having one of his parental episodes as I like to call them. They involve him feeling infinitely guilty over his lack of parental presence in my life, so in order to ease his conscience and convince himself he isn’t a completely screw up as a dad he makes some sort of strange effort.

“Stiles, can you sit down for a second. There is something we need to talk about.”

The first and last time, I heard my dad say those words was when he tried to tell me my mother had left. At fourteen, I was all too aware of the daily screaming matches that had taken place between them as long as I can remember.

“At first, when the cats went missing I figured it was some sort of bad joke and they would return on their own after a few days and everything would go back to normal. But then the symbols started showing up all over town…”

“What are you trying to say, dad?”

“We discovered another symbol this morning and it has made some people anxious. Mainly because the black ink we can’t find the origin off has been switched out with blood. It might be animal blood, but things are escalating more than I thought they would, so I need you to be careful, okay? No running around where you aren’t supposed to be.”

Growing up with my dad, one thing has always been law. A man does _not_ show emotions. Emotions make us weak. So he is normally the calmest and most logical person I know even in rather extreme situations, which is great for his job but sucks for parenting.

That is why _him_ being scared and him allowing me to see him scared, scares me more than any of the information he just gave me. It also tells me that he knows everybody is going to realize this isn’t nothing and he can’t keep telling them that it is. At the same, he doesn’t want this to end in mass hysteria so he needs to get to the bottom of this _fast._

“I am only asking you not to do anything reckless and come straight home after work, okay? Please just promise me, you won’t go do something stupid.”

“Statistically that is…”

“Please just do this for me, Stiles…”

“Okay…”

“Thank you. Say hi to grandma and grandpa for me, I need to get to work.”

Seeing him exit the kitchen makes my heart drop. The only time I have seen him this close to losing it was when my mother left. Back then he couldn’t deal so he just tried to forget. Only, he didn’t dive into his work or get overly excited about some strange new hobby, no, he went all in and started drinking; heavily.

The entire community looked the other way, because what can you expect from a man who just lost the love of his life. I wish they had done something, anything really, because they didn’t see the side of him I did. They didn’t have to search for him in the middle of the night when he didn’t come home and take care of him when he couldn’t even handle getting out of bed in the morning.

All the responsibility fell on the shoulders of the fourteen year old who was barely holding himself together in the first place and had no one to talk to.

At one point, it got so bad that I constantly made up excuses to skip school so I could take care of him because I was terrified he might hurt himself.

Time and time again, I reached the point where I thought to myself: things can’t get any worse, this is the limit. Then the limit was pushed a little bit further over and over again until I felt like crawling into fetal position and crying my eyes out.

Luckily for me, my grandparents eventually noticed and stepped in. I never found out what they did or said to him, but the next morning I had my dad back. He didn’t go back to being the man he was before she left, but I didn’t have to worry as much anymore.

This was around the time we started avoiding each other, maybe because he couldn’t handle what he put me through or my resemblance to the wife who left him. Everything considered, I don’t know why he would change things. Why he would suddenly be sitting at the kitchen counter warning me, because why would he think anybody would hurt me in Beacon Hills, California?

 

* * *

 

Whenever things went south at home, even before my mother left, I would go to the one place I always felt most at home in: my grandparent’s diner. No matter how busy they were they always had time to give me odd advice on whatever or tell me that everything will work itself out.

Their way of running thing attracts a lot of the more eccentric residents of Beacon Hills, because they only thing that matters inside their four walls is family. All the regulars and the staff have become a strange replacement family to each other, support each other and lending an ear whenever on of us needs someone to load off on. I can’t tell them everything, but it helps knowing they are there.

Since I am almost always there anyway, my grandparents figured I might as well make myself useful. It started out with doing a couple of dishes and busting a few tables, but now I can pretty much run the place on my own.

An elderly lady, Ms. Davis, is here almost as much as I am so we have become quite close. She might not know what year it is but the amount of historic and otherwise useless knowledge inside her brain is amazing. Before she lost her grip on reality she was one of the best teachers this town has ever known, so she helps me with an interesting angle or criticism whenever I am stuck with my schoolwork.

Like every other morning, she sits by the counter drinking her coffee when I stop by. My grandpa stands by the register and my grandma is working on her famous pancakes and despite the hectic atmosphere, this place calms me down yet again.

“Genim, how are you doing, son?”

“Fine, do you need any help after school? I could really use a break from all my schoolwork, chemistry is kicking my bud.”

“Sure, things have been crazy the last couple of days since the symbols started appearing. People don’t understand what is happening.”

Every time anything happens really, people flock to the diner so they can pretend to run into each other and gossip about whatever is going on. Usually my grandpa doesn’t mind, it is good for business. The only time, I have actually seen my grandpa angry was after my mother left and people came here and openly whispered about how bad I must have been feeling right in front of me. I have never seen him lose it like that, but he was my hero that day.

“I know; dad has been worried about the disappearances and the symbols. He hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep the last couple of weeks.”

“He has realized that the symbols and the disappearances might be connected, right?”

This is exactly why I love Ms. Davis. She always says what everybody is thinking but is too scared to say out loud because as long as no one says anything it can’t possibly be real. The only thing I don’t understand is how the hell she can see a connection between the two things beside the fact that they are probably done by the same man.

“I bet you have your own theory, Ms. Davis.”

“Of course I do boy, Native American symbols and animal disappearances…”

“Native American symbols?”

“These particular ones are the symbols the Natives used for what they called skinwalkers.”

A strange sensation tells me I should know this. I don’t understand it, but it has been happening more and more frequently over the last couple of months. My mind both blocks and tries to recall information while a small voice asks me if I really want to know. It freaks me out because my mind wouldn’t just block out information without a good reason, so what happens if I remember?

“You already know the Native Americans believe in spirits who live on a different spiritual plan, so regular people can’t communicate directly with them, so they manifest themselves as totem animals who guide us through life. Sometimes the regular people find ways to gain access to the spirit plan and they take on the form of the animal. These are the people the Natives called skinwalkers and they are as far as I remember not the most popular people, but everything is a bit hazy…”

“So you saying the strange symbols are connected to some seriously shady shapeshifting dudes? What does that even mean?”

Most people consider it polite to answer when asked a question, but Ms. Davis and I have come to an understand that whenever I ask a random stupidly obvious question or when she obviously doesn’t know the answer, she has the not to answer, which usually leaves our conversations terribly one sided.

The idea of these skinwalkers frightens me in a way I can’t explain. Why would someone use those symbols? Do they even know the meaning? This has clearly reached a point where we can’t pretend this is all boyish pranks. The first cat disappearing might have been harmless, but when pretty much every cat in the area vanishes from the surface of the earth, it gets increasingly serious.

Then the first symbol showed up burned into the front lawn of the local high school, we were told that whoever was behind this has to step forward or repercussions would be serious. Needless to say on one stepped forward and soon every night a new symbol showed up in any closed area as if to daunt us with the fact that no one is safe. Who this is can get in anywhere they want.

 

* * *

 

The amount of new students at Beacon Hills High School is limited to one or two every five years so we have all grown up together. Throughout the years we have fallen into familiar roles and by now they aren’t really up for discussion. Considering everything I doubt any of us really know each other, because how well does anybody know anyone anymore?

Most people are too concerned with what is happening around them to really notice the small symbols so they don’t even notice the small moments. They don’t notice the way the sun hits the surface of the river in the distance creating a golden line across the horizon or the sound of the wind over the lacrosse field right before a game. Not the way Scott and I do.

Maybe that is why Scott and I are so close. We don’t have to tell each other when we are having a good day, because we just know. We notice the small symbols.

Some days I wonder what my life would be like if Scott hadn’t decided to play with the scrawny kid in pre-school. He always tells me that we would have found each other way because we were meant to be brothers, but I don’t know if I agree.

For once, Scott looks more like something the cat dragged in instead of his usual perfectionistic positive self. His hair looks like something that hasn’t seen a brush in days and not in a good way, is clothes looks slept in, and the dark circles around his eyes make it obvious that he probably hasn’t slept all that well last night.

“What is happening, dude? You look like crap.”

“You know I have been feeling off for weeks and last night, before I went to bed I wanted to prepare for tomorrow’s big game by watching the game videos like I always do. Only, the next thing I know, I am standing knee deep in water because somehow I got from my room to standing in the middle of the river without knowing how the hell that happened.”

“You blacked out?”

Running his hands through his hair does nothing to improve his looks and it tells me he is scared something is really wrong, something he can’t control.

This is probably the worst thing that could happen to him right now. He is the biggest control freak when it comes to lacrosse. He never does anything halfway and he controls every factor he can. But he does have pretty much the entire state declaring him the next big thing and they are probably right. It doesn’t help that he has college scholarships and getting food on the table to worry about.

“I probably just feel asleep and sleepwalked like when I was a kid, right?”

“You did make quite the impression on my parents when you walked through the door in third grade sleeping. As far as I remember your mom wasn’t too thrilled about it either. Me though, I was just really impressed you had managed to get from your house to mine without being run over by some car…”

“She would freak out if she knew about this and the mortgage is coming up…”

The sudden change of focus tells me there is more to this story, but he doesn’t need me to tell him that this isn’t good. His eyes radiate terror and I know he will tell me the whole story when he is ready for it.

Everything inside him is probably tearing him apart screaming ‘what if it isn’t just sleepwalking? What if we aren’t right?’ Scott has so much riding on this next game he probably doesn’t even consider the repercussions if this is something serious.

The team and his family counts on him playing well so he can get a scholarship and be the first member of the McCall family to go to college. Ever since his father left, his mom worries herself sick about finding money to pay for college and Scott wants to do what is best for his family, even if it isn’t what is best for him.

The hours he has worked to achieve an average acceptable enough to even be considered for a scholarship is unimaginable especially when you consider the hours he spends practicing and working so his mom doesn’t have to worry as much. Sometimes I really worry he doesn’t eat or sleep enough to keep going.

Scott doesn’t want people to know about his family’s financial situation, because he is scared the team is going to think less of him, so Coach and him have worked out some agreement about the expenses we have as a part of the team. But I know he hates owing anything to anything. He would much rather be the guy the others see him as; the one who gets all the girls and scores all the goals, the one who has an easy life.

“Do you think the team is ready for tomorrow?”

“Come on, even Charleston doesn’t think they have a shot in hell to win this.”

“Stiles, this is the kind of attitude that could cost us the game…”

“Dude, I might be _on the team_ , but we both know I am not leaving the bench, so I don’t think it’s me you have got to worry about.”

Unrealistic is the one thing I have never been. My lacrosse skills can be described very easily: none existing. I am actually pretty sure mine and Scott’s friendship is the only reason coach hasn’t physically forced my off the team yet. I don’t really mind, me being on the bench is probably what is safest for everybody. I can’t really do that much damage from there.

“Mr. Stilinski, would you please answer my question?”

What do you do when your Chemistry teacher hates you? Me? I tell myself it is because my dad towed his car very publicly when he first got into town because of illegal parking even though I know it might have something to do with the fact that he can’t understand how I keep getting straight A’s in his tests.

I completely understand where the man is coming from. When you talk back and use more sarcasm than should be allowed, it doesn’t exactly scream intelligent and competent. Not paying attention when your teacher is trying to explain Le Chatelier’s principle probably doesn’t help either, but he doesn’t know that I work my ass off to understand the material. I just don’t do it at school.

“Which question Mr. Harris? The one concerning Le Chatelier’s principle’s use in reversible reactions or more specially the effect of temperature, substrate concentration or pressure on the equilibrium reaction? I don’t mind explaining either.”

I don’t know who is more surprised, Mr. Harris or the rest of the class. Stiles Stilinski actually came with a qualified answer. Luckily, the bell rings right before the shock wears off and suddenly everybody’s minds are focused on anything else than chemistry and Stiles Stilinski.

No one beside the school administration and a few selected people know that my IQ is well above average and I would like to keep it that way. Life is complicated enough as it without being labelled as an overachieving weirdo too.

Right before I get to my locker Scott catches up to me. The expression on his face tells me he has something major he needs to share with me. He just doesn’t want to do it in the middle of the hallway. I wave him towards an empty classroom where we can have the conversation without an audience.

“What is going on? You look like you are about to burst…”

“You know I told you about the incident this morning. Well, I left out some details.”

“I figured, but why are you telling me now?”

“Tonight wasn’t the first time it happened. It has been going on for a while, but I always woke up in my bed, so I didn’t think it could be all that bad. Then my feet were covered in dirt and soon it was my entire body, but today I found this in my bag during Chemistry…”

Right then I notice the ripped up fabric caught in his fist. I recognize it as part of one of Scott’s favorite shirts. The one he was wearing the day before. The only difference is that now it is soaked in something that looks a hell of a lot like _blood._

When our eyes meet I see pure terror. I don’t even know what I am supposed to say. What do you say when your best friend shows you one of his ripped up shirts soaked in what might very well be blood? He clearly doesn’t think the blood belongs to him, so we got to be thinking the same thing. If the blood doesn’t belong to him then who the hell does it belong to?

“What have I done, Stiles?”

“We don’t know. We shouldn’t panic. There might be some reasonable explanation…”

“Don’t do that, Stiles! Don’t try to make it sound like this isn’t fucked? I have a t-shirt soaked in blood and I don’t remember how it got like that. What kind of psychopath am I?”

“Look, this could just be some really bad joke. Let’s just look into it before we freak out…”

Everything starts getting blurry around the edges as I try to convince myself that Scott didn’t hurt anyone. I need to believe that because he is the only person I know who is genuinely good through and through. He puts everybody else’s needs ahead of his own, especially when it comes to his mom.

Scott has been the man in the house ever since his father left and his mom has had problems making enough money to put food on the table and pay the mortgage. So Scott works whenever he can while managing to do all the handiwork around the house.

He is my best friend and I can’t believe he would do something bad.

“What do you want us to do? Play detectives and magically figure out some logical explanation for it all where I merely happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Why do you want it to be true so badly?”

My voice almost breaks when those words come out. How can he believe he would hurt anyone even if it is in his sleep? To me, it would be so far out that it couldn’t even be considered a possibility.

Suddenly, the bell rings forcing us into another classroom filled with people who don’t know. What would they think if they did? Would they jump to conclusions like Scott? Would they laugh it off? Would they do the same as me and try and come up with some explanation that doesn’t involve their best friend hurting anyone?

I can’t even allow myself to believe anything else, because what would that mean?


	2. Fears for the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed a few things in the first chapter, nothing affecting the plot, so it is not necessary to read to understand anything that happens here.  
> This is the chapter I introduce Derek, he is in the second half of the chapter, so please tell me what you think. He is a bit sassier than in the TV-show, but I like that.  
> I have changed some things concerning the deaths of the Hale family members, just for info. 
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think, I could really just some feedback or an beta (if someone is willing, please write me)
> 
> Tell me if I have to change the tags or anything  
> Stay safe xo

During practice Scott can barely hold it together. Usually, he can leave whatever is going on his life in the locker room, but this is the worst I have ever seen him play.

The rest of the team seems to assume that it just the pressure of tomorrow’s game that is weighing him down. They are all worried, but they don’t understand that Scott has never worried about playing well. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t wonder why, he just scores goals and the goalkeeper doesn’t stand a chance.

“What the hell is wrong with Scott?”

“Do we have anything to worry about?”

The other scholarship hopefuls pretty much attack me when Scott leaves the locker room. I can’t really blame them, because it is their futures on the line and as much as they probably don’t want to admit it, they need Scott to play well. He is the kind of player that makes everybody else look good and to most of them lacrosse is the only option they have if they want to attend college.

The same goes for Scott because in Beacon Hills money in an issue. Most of the guys can’t afford to think about anybody but themselves. Sure, if they knew how important college is to Scott and his family they might have eased up on, but he doesn’t want them to feel sorry for him.

All he wants is to be Scott. He doesn’t want to the lacrosse star. He doesn’t want to be the poor struggling kid. He just wants to be him and lacrosse allows that because when he steps out onto that field he doesn’t have to worry about money, food, or the leaking roof.

The only thing he has to worry about is putting the ball in the right net.

 

* * *

 

The day before a big game is usually spent playing video games or watching movies. Usually the only thing I have to worry about is whether I can convince Scott that watching Stars Wars for the millionth time is a good idea, but today neither of us feels up to it.

After finishing dinner at the diner, I decide that it is best for Scott to just head home because having to watch him barely being able to focus enough to get the fork from the plate to his face correctly is too embarrassing to watch.

Scott’s behavior isn’t the only thing that is off tonight. Usually, Ms. Davis shows up at the diner precisely at six o’clock, but she is nowhere to be found and I really wanted to ask her a couple of questions about the Native American symbols and skinwalkers.

I planned on coming back to the diner later anyway to help my grandpa close up, so I can probably catch her then, but I can’t help being a little bit worried about her. Ms. Davis isn’t exactly young anymore, but I need to borrow some books from the library before it closes, so I can’t wait around any longer.

Surprisingly enough for the size of the local library, they have an entire section on Native American culture and folklore. Usually they have to borrow books from other libraries when I go one of my research benders as Scott like to call them, but it is not my fault that other people don’t understand the wonders of sword swallowing, decapitation under the French Revolution, or the extradition treaties of various countries. Why wouldn't you want to know?

Sure, the internet brings along the wonders of google and Wikipedia, but sometimes you just want to read it in an old fashioned book. This urge for the old fashioned makes me quite familiar with our librarian, Ms. Morell, who at times seems quite disturbed by my research topics even if she would never say a word about it.

I am actually pretty sure I am the only person under fifty she sees on a regular basis, so  that might influence her decision to keep quiet. Eventually she is going to realize that speaking up doesn’t scare me away, though. In a weird way, I think it might make me come back more often just to see how much I can freak her out , just choosing random research topics to freak her out.

“Good evening Stiles, how are you doing?”

“Fine, everybody is excited for the big game tomorrow.”

“You gonna play?”

“Nah, I think it might be best for everybody that I just stay on the bench for the time being.”

She smiles at me before handing me my books. Suddenly, someone grabs one of them and I find myself standing face to face with what might be one of the most beautiful human beings ever. He is like a Greek god trapped on Earth with his stupid handsome face and ridiculously toned body and his untouchable... everything. Like, who decided it was fair to torture mere mortals like me with the perfection that is him.

“You do realize this is a piece of modernized crab, right?”

Then he just smiles at Ms. Morell like they have known each other forever and walks right out of the library without even looking back once. One part of me just want to run after him to yell at him for being a jackass and confusing me, but another part just want to hide forever because what the hell just happened? How are you even supposed to react to that?

For some reason Ms. Morell seems to think that me being struck speechless by some gorgeous rude piece of man is funny. I am pretty sure she would be laughing her ass off if I wasn’t standing right in front of her. I am actually not sure me standing here is going to prevent her from laughing her ass off very much longer if her facial expression is anything to go by.

“Who the hell was that?”

That seems to be the final straw because the next thing I know I have got a twenty something librarian laughing her ass off in my face. What is it with people tonight? What the hell have people been drinking!?

Why I don’t storm off right then leaving her laughing ass behind I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, but when she finally manages to stop laughing she does have the decency to apologize.

“You probably don’t remember since he is a couple years older, but that was Derek Hale…”

“Hale, as in my dad’s case five years ago?”

“Yes, he left shortly after everything went down. He hasn’t been back since the funeral…”

“Why is he back now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Five years ago, the Hale Family murder scared Beacon Hills to their core. A hiker found the entire family brutally murdered in a clearing in the preserve with the only surviving members being Derek and his older sister Laura.

Besides being the biggest murder case in Beacon Hills’ history it was also my dad’s first case as a Sheriff and I am never going to forget the expression on his face when he got home that first night. He looked like he had seen hell and somehow found his way back. Then again, how do you tell two teenagers that their entire family has been brutally murdered? Is there even a good way to do that?

I don’t think my dad ever really forgave himself for how the case ended. He never really believed that it was a passing serial killer who was caught a state over a few months later. The killer ended up committing suicide under some seriously suspicious circumstances, so afterwards my dad tried getting the case reopened, but he got shot down every time.

There was no doubt in our house when he had gotten one of the rejection letters because he always drank a little bit too much beer for dinner and a few too many glasses of Jake Daniel’s after. I hate to think he gave up, but I guess he just got tired of being told no at every turn.

 

* * *

 

Back at the diner the place is mostly deserted except for a few regulars and a dark mysterious stranger who sits with his back to the entrance. My grandpa stands next to him speaking rather animated about what could very well be how he met my grandma. He likes to tell that story to the strangers passing by. Most of them seem to enjoy it too and if I am completely honest it does make my heart melt a little every time he tells it. They really love each other.

My grandma always laughs at him and I can see her smiling in the kitchen when he notices him talking to the stranger. She catches my eye and nods her head like she wants me to go save the unfortunate soul my grandpa has decided to bother with their story.

So I make my way over to the table and right as I stop the stranger puts the menu down. Turns out the stranger really isn’t technically a stranger, because the stranger is Derek Hale. Derek Hale is sitting right in front of me with his dark hair, gorgeous green eyes and cheekbones that could probably seriously cut glass. Like when has this become fair?

“Well, speaking of the sun! Derek, this is my grandson Genim, I have been telling you about.”

Suddenly the green eyes are very much focusing on me, making me very aware of how not coordinate my body happens to be. In a desperate attempt to do _something_ , I end up looking even less intelligent than usual and waving like a complete idiot. He of course just sends tips his head slightly and sends me this superior looking smile. How is this even my life?

“I don’t think you were ever introduced before you moved away before you left Derek, but Derek’s family used to come here and eat. Your grandma and I were very good friends with Derek’s mother Talia…”

Derek tenses up visibly when my grandpa mentions his family and even more so his mother. The guy clearly doesn’t feel comfortable talking or hearing about his family and it doesn’t get better when my grandpa starts going on about some funny story he has about Derek mother’s and how she met my grandparents. I really wish my grandpa knew how to read a situation better.

“Derek and I actually met at the library today…”

“Oh really, are you both interested in the same topic?”

“I wouldn’t know. Derek merely insulted my choice of reading material and left. I can’t say he has made much of an impression.”

“Well, I clearly made some kind of impression since you remember me.”

“What can I say? Insults tend to stick with me.”

When my grandpa has to go back behind the counter, I can’t say who is most relieved, me or Derek. In the midst of the relief, I manage to have enough of a brain bleed to think that sitting down next to guy who most of all resembles a Greek statue instead of leaving the poor dude alone is something I have to do.

When I realized what I have done I almost just run away, straight through the door and hope that I never have to run into the dude again. But I manage to gather some sort of courage and actually open my mouth to speak to this person.

“I am sorry about my grandpa; he doesn’t really realize when he does that…”

“Most people don’t…”

“Still, it was pretty obvious you didn’t want to talk about it. Can I ask you something, about the book I mean?”

Being vulnerable like this is really something I am really not a fan of. I can’t say I am a huge fan of the look he is giving me right now. Like seriously, the dude’s eyebrows alone make you feel like you’re being judge just from whatever it is he does with them. Scowling should be illegal with a face like his.

As Derek opens his mouth to answer, Ms. Davis walks up to us looking unusually stormy. It is hard to pin point if she is angry or if she is just being firm.

She sits down right between us and puts one hand on top of each other of ours and Derek looks like he has no idea how to handle the old lady. Most of all, he looks like he wants to remove her hand from his rather violently because given her a piece of his mind and I consider doing something, but it is kind of fun to see Derek this rattled. Something tells me it doesn’t happen too often.

“Now, you two I want you to listen to an old lady. A lot of horrible things have happened in this town and a lot of horrible things are going to happen in this town, it has always been that way and it won’t change anything time soon. Remember that.”

“Ms. Davis…”

“Now, Genim I thought I had thought you well enough not to interrupt an old lady giving advice. Oh, I have been trying to teach you, but I thought I had more time and you don’t know enough, you don’t know nearly enough. All these symbols are calling out to you, awakening those who have not yet reached maturation.”

Somehow Derek seems to actually understand what the hell the nonsense Ms. Davis is spewing means, because I have absolutely no idea. Maturation? Awakening? It sounds like one of those cheesy supernatural novels where the hero finds out he has amazing abilities and saves the world. I am pretty sure this is not one of those, so what the hell?!

“How long I have waited for this day, when the son of Claudia and the son of Talia would finally meet. I really hope you will be everything we have hoped for. Now, my last piece of advice, be careful of what you uncover.”

Then for the second time today someone says something insanely creepy and weird and invasive and just walks away. In a strange way, I feel like this might be the last time I get to see Ms. Davis in a while and that scares the living shit out of me.

“Did you understand any of that?”

“I think your grandfather needs you.”

Well, way to go if you need to avoid answering the question and send the annoying teenager pestering you packing, but why can't anybody in this town just answer my damn questions? My grandpa does need my help though, so I just leave the obnoxious good looking person behind to do the scowling on his own. Like seriously who scowls that much?

It’s probably the eyebrows.

It’s definitely the eyebrows.

 

* * *

 

Back at the house, I find myself having a déjà vu because my dad sits at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee looking more than a little tired. The man really needs to get some sleep or he is going to work himself into an early grave.

This is a good opportunity to do some research about the scowling stranger who I keep running into. I don’t even run into Scott two times in one day when I am doing it intentionally.

“Dad, I can I ask you a couple of questions?”

“As long as these questions doesn’t involve some ‘imaginary friend’ and some ‘imaginary crimes’ that happens to have taken place in Beacon Hills recently too, sure.”

“That was once dad, and, no, it doesn’t involve anything imaginary. What do you remember about the Hale murder?”

My dad suddenly looks even more tired than before. It is like the moment I mention the name Hale his entire energy level goes straight to negative numbers. Then he runs his hands through his hair, signing loudly before looking back up at me.

“You know what happened, Stiles. The Hale family with the exception of Derek and Laura Hale was found brutally murdered in the preserve by a hiker. The Hiker said he thought he smelt something burned and he wanted to make sure there wasn’t a fire…”

“Burned?”

“We couldn’t smell anything when we arrived at the scene, but most just assumed he mistook the smell for something else. I always thought it was strange they were so fast to dismiss it, but I could never prove anything so I couldn’t do a lot about it. There were a lot of things about the murders that were odd, but most of them were dismissed seeing as they caught the murderer who confessed.”

“You talked to the murderer?”

“No, he was caught in Oregon, but he confessed to the murders here and others around California. He committed suicide in his cell a few days later. The case was closed, but I always thought the circumstances were suspicious.”

When my dad’s phone starts ringing it startles the both of us. The station never calls him after hours unless it is an emergency and those don’t happen all that often in Beacon Hills. Usually, this town is all too boring to really talk about, but right about now I would kill for boring.

My dad answers his phone and walks into the living room so I can’t overhear what the call is about. It doesn’t really work, because I can still hear everything he says. I can hear the serious tone his voice has when he is working, which I as a kid used to call it his police voice.

The call only lasts about a minute and then my dad comes back to the kitchen looking pale. Whatever this is about has clearly shocked him, but what the hell is going on?

“Dad, what is wrong?”

“Deputy Cullen called… Did you talk to Ms. Davis tonight?”

“She came by the diner, a little later than usual, but I talked to her, yes.”

“There was some commotion at her home that alerted her neighbors, but when the Deputies arrived at the scene… she wasn’t there.”

I can feel my breathing picking up. Why would someone want to hurt Ms. Davis. She is literally one of the nicest people I have ever met, so who would do this? Could it have something to do with that is going on? sure, she sounded like she recognize the symbols, but what could she possibly know that would put her in danger? What wasn't she supposed to know?

Suddenly, I realize my heart rate has accelerate and my breathing is edge on hyperventilation, which makes my body start trembling and shaking. Generally, it makes me feel dizzy and I don't even realize how bad it is before my dad holds onto both of my hands so hard it hurts. He is trying to talk to me, but I can't hear him. I can't hear anything except my own heart beat. Then the pain from where he is holding my hands gets worse and somehow it manages to ground me in the middle of the panic attack.

As my breathing evens out, I can't feel the familiar angry rushing through my body. I can't believe I am back to having panic attacks! It has been so long since I had any, I seriously thought those days where over.

I started having them regularly after my mom left and my dad started drinking whenever I didn't know where my dad was because I was scared he was going to leave me too. The only one who could calm me down was my grandma, but she had it down to an art.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just had panic attack. It has been a while since I had one..."

"You have been having panic attacks?"

"Do you think Ms. Davis is okay?"

Since my dad leaving was one of the major triggers he never knew I had them. I made my grandparents promise not to say anything because I didn't want him to worry. I didn't want to be a burden, so my entire life back then was about not making him worry.

"We don't know that much yet, but it seems like you might be one of the last people to talk to her, so you might have to make a statement at some point tomorrow if we don't have a break through."

"Right, you have to go now, don't you?"

"It's a missing person's case, you know how important the first 24 hours are. But I will call you when I know when you should come by the station for your statement and please don't go anywhere tonight and close all doors and windows after I leave. Okay?"

"I will get right on that, stay safe."

 

* * *

 

The second my dad is out the door and I have double checked that all the windows and doors and closed and locked, I call Scott. He doesn’t answer right away and I can’t help but worry. What if something has happened to him too? I can’t lose any more people right now. Then my phone starts ringing, scaring me because I am too caught up in my own head with thoughts flying in all directions.

“Stiles, why the hell are you calling me this late?”

“Ms. Davis is missing…”

“What? Ms. Davis? What are you talking about?”

“My dad just got the call. Apparently the neighbors heard something and called the police and when the police got there she was gone. They can’t find her. Dude, you must have heard the sirens when the police got there, you only live a couple houses down from her.”

It gets completely quiet on Scott’s end except for his breathing. I can almost hear his brain working and something tells me this isn’t a good thing. Something is going on in that brain of his that won’t be too pleasant to hear when he is done thinking.

When nothing happens for several minutes I can feel my ADHD kicking in and I start pacing the living room. I probably should have upped my dose of Adderall a little bit with everything going on, but a part of me has been proud that I have managed to cut down.

“Dude, start speaking or…”

“I don’t remember where I have been for the past three hours Stiles. I don’t remember _anything_ since I left you at the diner…”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a blackout…”

And for the second time today I can feel myself working up to a panic attack. Only this time it doesn’t catch me off guard, so I manage to use some of the techniques I learned, preventing me from losing it completely

“Stiles, do you think I had something to do with it…”

“Scott…”

“No, Stiles, listen to me! I have found two t-shirts drowned in blood the last few days and now I blacked out for hours and someone went missing…”

“We can’t know what you did.”

“Stiles, you must have…”

“Of course I have, Scott! I just can’t believe that you could do something like that! It looks suspicious, but… I just can’t believe it, okay?”

Standing in the living room, I start feeling strangely vulnerable, so I make my way up the stairs up to my bedroom. Most of all I just want to lie down in fetal position and forget about all of this, wallowing in the misery that is my existence.

Part of me know I can’t afford to do that. Scott needs me right now so I need to step up and be there for him. He is my best friend and this is what best friends do. Support each other.

“We need to find out what happened, Scott.”

“I know, Stiles, but how do we do that?”

“Now, Scott, I am not the Sheriff’s son for nothing. We will begin the investigation tomorrow, but right now you need to get some sleep, innocent until proven guilty, remember.”

“You are a good friend, Stiles.”

“You just realized that, Scott?”

My lovely sense of sarcasm does it job pulling a laugh out of Scott. Despite everything every person needs to laugh sometimes, even when things are shit.

 

* * *

 

Almost the second I am off the phone with Scott I am on my computer going through everything I can find on the Hale Murders. I can’t really do much for Scott right now, but research I can do and something about this case makes it so damn hard to let go.

After a couple of hours of what feels like useless research all I can find are family photos and strangely short articles barely explaining what happened. It is almost as if someone has been trying to prevent too much from getting out, but then I find some articles written by an anonymous freelance reporter about the murders.

While reading the first one I get the distinct sense that my dad might not have been as alone in his opinions as he first thought. This guy seems strangely informed about everything the police found out back then. Even about things I haven’t read in any of the other articles which doesn’t really sit right with me, because that means whoever this is could be connected to the police.

In the last article there is a picture of the entire Hale family shortly before the fire. They all look so happy it is hard to believe a stranger would just come along and murder them all.

Suddenly, all thoughts disappear except one when I notice the necklace around Derek’s mother Talia Hale’s neck. Then I am zooming on the picture and at the same time looking up files from the current cases (I might have ‘accidently’ gained access to the police departments file service, ups!) and comparing them, because this is just plain freaky.

The necklace around Talia Hale’s neck is an exact match to the first symbol that showed up a couple of weeks ago, but how the hell can that be? Why would Talia Hale have that symbol around her neck and why the hell would it should up five years later in from of the school buildings?

What does Derek’s family have to do with all of this?


	3. Searching For Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the whole mystery aspect of the story sets in with Stiles trying to figure out what is going on with Scott, the Hale Murder, Ms Davis kidnapping and everything else. I really hope you enjoy it.  
> There is also a lot more Derek in this chapter, so please tell me what you think of the Stiles/Derek interaction and just the story in general. This is my first fic and I have absolutely no idea if I am taking this story in the right direction or if it just sucks.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who actually reads this and leaves kudos and everything <3  
> Sorry about any errors, no beta, so it's all mine (please let me know if anyone wants to help)  
> Tell me if I need to add or edit tags
> 
> Stay safe

Waking up next morning after only a few hours of sleep can only be described as torture. Why someone got the idea to torture students all over the world by forcing them up at ungodly hours for school is beyond me. I love learning, don’t get me wrong, I just don’t love learning at 8am.

Despite being sleep deprived, I can’t really regret researching. Finding those articles and seeing that symbol around Talia Hale’s neck only confirms my dad’s instincts that something was off about those murders. The only question is could those murders have anything to do with what is happening now?

Meeting up with Scott by our lockers before school, has been tradition since we started elementary school. Usually his morning person personality makes me want to punch him in the face for the first thirty minutes, but today Scott looks like he has slept less than me.

“You look like shit.”

“Good morning to you too, Stiles.”

“Did you even sleep at all?”

“No, I didn’t sleep, but what did you expect? How can I possibly fall asleep when all I can think about is that I might have something to do with Ms. Davis’ disappearance? What if I had a blackout? Who knows what I could have done? Kill someone? How the hell am I supposed to live with myself if I have something to do with all of this, Stiles?”

The guilt is radiating from my friend and what do you say to that? Being in constant fear that if you close your eyes you might end up doing something horrible even if you never wanted to and you might never know you did it, it has to be torture.

Under normal circumstances I can pretty much research myself out of most problems, but how do you research something you don’t even know what is? I hate not knowing. I hate not being control.

“We have to find out for sure…”

“How do we do that?! We don’t even know what is going on?”

“We have to establish a timeline of when you have your blackouts and when everything else has been going on. Maybe we can find a connection and go with that or maybe we find out that there is no connection and you can finally get some sleep.”

“This is going to involve you being strangely excited about research isn’t it?”

“Ah, you know me so well, Scott.”

For the first time today, I manage to get a small laugh out of my friend. Then I hug him before we make our way towards the classroom for Chemistry where Harris is waiting to ridicule me as usual. With how things are going today that might end with me having detention for talking back to a teacher but I have to go to the library after school anyways so it’s not that big of a sacrifice.

Right before we reach our dreaded destination this morning, Scott pulls me aside again looking worried again. He actually doesn’t look worried; it is more of a … pensive thing.

“Has your dad heard anything about Ms. Davis?”

“No, he promised he would call if he heard anything. I have to make a statement at the station later because I was one of the last people to see her, you know. She acted all weird even for her, warning us about Beacon Hills attracting creepy stuff. Not that I actually understand what she was talking about because beside this case and the Hale murder nothing weird or creepy has happened in this town in like ever…”

“Stiles, you are doing the rambling thing.”

“I know, I just don’t understand why she would warn me or why she would think I should know the Native American symbols. Like why? Do I just scream weird research dude?”

“Well, you kinda…”

“I know, I know, I am the weird research dude, but that is so beside the point, okay? Why would I know anything about Native American symbols? I don’t know anything about Native American anything!”

“She probably just told you to do some paper on it and you never go around to it.”

I nod, but I have every paper that woman has told me to and I have never researched anything about Native American symbols. What did she mean? Was she trying to tell me something she shouldn’t have? Does this have something to do with why the Hales were murdered or the fact that Talia Hale was wearing the first symbol around her neck?

I don’t even know what all of this means and Scott will probably just panic over the fact that any of this might have anything to do with actual murders. I guess it is best not to tell him too much right now. We can’t afford having him more worried than he already is.

 

* * *

 

Right when Harris has zeroed in on me for his daily ridicule-Stiles-Stilinski-attempt the door opens and Coach Finstock stands in the door looking more confused than usual. The look Harris sends Coach might actually be worse than his I-hate-Stiles-look and that is saying something, but then again Coach has a tendency to have no filter and not care what other people think so I guess we have some things in common.

“I have to borrow my players, Harris, principal’s orders.”

“Fine, but your players are still doing the assignment Finstock, no special treatment.”

“McCall, Bilinski, Whittemore, Mahealani, get your asses to my office right now.”

Since the first day I stepped into his classroom and he read my name wrong, I have been Bilinski to him. I honestly don’t think he would know who I was if someone asked him about Stiles Stilinski. Then again that has gotten me out of quite an amount of detention worthy situations, so I don’t really care all that much anymore.

The first thought going through my mind when we step into his office is ‘well this place is a bit over crowded’ because the entire school board and the entire lacrosse team are crammed into the way too tiny office space. To top it off my dad and the mayor are here too and since the mayor is anything but a tiny man it doesn’t help the space situation.

I try to wave to my dad as some sort of greeting figuring that is what is expected when a kid runs into his dad, but he doesn’t even notice that I am here. Then again between the rather big and buff men in the room I don’t really stand out. I could probably leave and no one would notice.

“Now, I decided to call you guys in here because we have been discussing some things that will influence you so I figured you should have a chance to voice your opinion.”

“What’s going on, Coach Finstock?”

“Well, Mahealani, I am guessing most of you already know that the situation in town has escalated since Ms. Davis went missing last night. The board agrees with the sheriff and the mayor that it isn’t something we should ignore, so it was brought up that the game tonight should be cancelled…”

“What?! You can’t do that!”

“…for security reasons.”

Then all hell breaks loose in the small office. All the players start protesting that they can’t cancel the game but they are pretty much yelling at the same time so no one understands anything that they are saying except that they really don’t agree with the decision.

“And why can’t we do that, gentlemen?”

Then the entire team goes quiet and I can’t help but laugh internally because I have never seen Jackson Whittemore lost for words before, but this is just great. None of these guys (well, with the exception of Danny and Scott) has two brain cells to rub together and seeing as the best answer I have heard out of any of them is ‘it isn’t fair’, I am guessing they don’t really stand a chance convincing anybody, so the best bet we have of actually playing tonight might actually be… _me._

“You probably don’t realize this, mayor, and no disrespect to you, but most of these guys will rely on lacrosse scholarships if they want to attend college and if you decide to cancel the big game a lot of the scouts for said scholarships and colleges won’t get the chance to watch play and therefore said scholarships might not happen. So do you really want to put all these guys’ futures on the line?

Plus what is cancelling actually going to achieve? Seeing as most of the town is already nervous my best bet is that you are going to have a hysteric town on your hands and my guess is that is what you are trying to avoid. So what I am suggesting is you call in extra security, in civilian clothes, and you make a statement encouraging people to travel in groups and not wander off alone. Sure that might make hem anxious, but you will avoid the hysteria and people stay safe.”

The silence when I stop speaking is deafening. I realize this is probably the only time I have ever spoken up (except for the occasional rambling session) during anything lacrosse related, but I don’t really understand this reaction. Sure, I most ramble on about some subjects most people don’t really feel like hearing about (I doubt anybody involved in the circumcision incident is ever going to be completely over the embarrassment), but come on!

Now I am just getting nervous, because why the hell aren’t people saying anything. Did I say something stupid? I don’t think it was stupid. I think that pretty much ruled, so what the hell?

“I have to say, it is nice to finally hear something that makes sense out of one of these kids”

Did the mayor actually just agree with me? Did the mayor just say that he actually thinks my idea is … good? Sure, I completely agree with him, I am awesome and all kinds of brilliant, but mostly people have a hard time agreeing with me.

“Do any of you disagree with the young Mr. Stilinski?”

No one moves a muscle and I think the mayor might actually smile. I am pretty sure the corners of his mouth are turn up, but he never smiles. The only time I think I have seen him close to something that could be classified as a smile is when he became mayor. Huh.

“Then we will follow the young Mr. Stilinski’s plan. You should be proud of your son, Sheriff.”

Then the man just walks right out making people jump desperately away from his path to be sure not to be crushed. My dad looks like he doesn’t really know what the hell is going on and I really want to ask him about Ms. Davis, but I can’t get anywhere with all of these people around.

“Now, all of you back to your classes, you can thank Bilinski later for saving your illiterate asses later and if I hear any of you doing anything remotely stupid for the next twelve hours I will haunt your asses the rest of your lives, you hear me?!”

All hope of talking to my dad vanishes, because I am pretty much carried out of the office between my fellow lacrosse players. Some hurry back to their classes, me, well, I can’t say the thought of facing Harris again anytime soon is appealing at all, so I walk slowly. _Very_ slowly.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, I make it through the day without getting a detention and seeing as the library is filled with people who don’t share my fate, I decide to look around the preserve instead. I text Scott telling him I won’t be able to meet up because I am doing some research about our current situation and my dad telling him I won’t be home until later.

Strategically, I leave out any information about my exact location in any of the texts knowing Scott will assume I am in the library and my dad will assume I am with Scott. The reason, well, I doubt either of them would be all that happy about me running around alone in the middle of the preserve when Ms. Davis is missing and my best friend is having blackouts and returning with blood soaked t-shirts. Not that either of those things are reassuring, but curiously is my fatal flaw.

Then again how the hell do you explain that you are going to a five year old crime scene where an entire family was murdered while some crazy old lady kidnapper is out there looming around?

When I actually get there it is all a bit anticlimactic because a lot of trees standing next to each other aren’t all that exciting. The next second, I regret ever thinking anything about this no being exciting because I find myself staring right into the amber eyes of a very, and I do mean _very_ , large black wolf. The terror going through me can’t be explained and any noise leaving my body has to be described as _very_ manly as I climb the nearest tree (or maybe not).

My luck doesn’t get any better because on my way up the very lovely tree I manage to drop my phone leaving me utterly unable to call for help, which is great, just great! How the hell do I even get that scary big ass wolf to leave my nice little ass alone?

Besides, what do you do when you are caught in a tree with a scary wolf looking at you like you could very well be dinner? Well, I can tell you that it is not much. You pretty much do nothing which isn’t something I excel in doing.

At some point during my rather extended stay in said tree I notice something. The grass doesn’t look right and when I say it doesn’t look right, I mean some of it seriously looks _wrong._ It wouldn’t really matter much if all those wrong looking patches didn’t form something that I have been looking at more than I want to. What the hell is the second symbol doing in the place where the Hale family was murdered? What do these symbols even mean? Everything about this day is really starting to scare the shit out of me and why the hell hasn’t that damn wolf left yet, like, why would that thing find me so damn entertaining? Go look for some bunnies or something.

Then I realize that the wolf is gone. Like I don’t know when that furry creature decided to leave, but I can’t say I am complaining, because now I can get my scrawny ass home before the game.

You know how in horror movies the characters always think they are safe right before something horrible happens, well, right now I am totally having one of those moments, because when I am half way down the tree something starts moving around in the bushes and all I can think is that the furry nightmare has returned and I want to cry. I honest to God want to cry my eyes out because this day just really sucks, I just want to go home and crawl into fetal position and just forget this whole day ever happened and screw the game. I won’t play anyway.

Only, the black furry nightmare doesn’t step out of the trees. No, the most handsome scowling man in the universe steps out between the bushes instead. Like, why the hell would someone show up right when I am pretty sure I am looking my most ridiculous?

“What are you doing to that tree?”

I don’t know how he manages to look anymore judgy but somehow those eyebrows give him magical powers because not even my dad can manage that kind of look. Like, honestly, it should be illegal to look like that because something inside me wants to run away from him as much as it wants to run away from the wolf because the dude is just plain scary, but that part of me just confuses this other part of me that wants to climb him like a tree. It really shouldn’t be allowed for any human being to be that hot, because it is just unfair for the rest of us mere mortals.

“Yeah, that happens to be a longer and rather embarrassing story I would rather not share and I am pretty sure you don’t want to hear it because it would just scar you for life; second hand embarrassment is totally a thing.”

“Genim…”

“Stiles…”

“What?”

“Call me Stiles.”

“What is a Stiles?”

“That would be me, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Your name is Stiles…”

“No, my name is Genim but no one pronounces it right beside my… mom…”

Then the awkward silence sets in and I can feel every ounce of my repressed ADHD starts doing it magic. The next thing I know I can feel myself fidgeting under his stares. Well, stare, really, because Derek really hasn’t figured out the whole blinking thing, he just kinda stares. Like one stare.

“What are you doing here?”

“Doing here _here_ or just here in this vicinity?”

“Your father is the Sheriff, why are you wandering around alone in the preserve? Someone is missing, you shouldn’t be taking risks.”

“Well, what about you big guy.”

“No one is going to miss me, so it doesn’t matter.”

Then he just starts walking again and I realize I am not completely sure how I am going to find my way back to my jeep, because I am not really sure how I found this place to begin with. So being left behind right now might not be the best choice.

So I decide to follow Derek, not that following Derek is easy because the dude walks fast. Not like normal people fast walking, but _fast_ walking. He is probably trying to get rid of me, but he might as well learn that I am not that easy to get rid of.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“No.”

“You might as well learn that I don’t really take no for an answer just for future reference, so I am just gonna start. I found a picture of your family… from your scowling, I take you don’t like talking about your family, duly noted. This really isn’t a question about your family; it is more about the necklace your mother was wearing in said photo. The symbol…”

“Is Native American, I know.”

“Well, seeing as we both know that, can you fill me on why your mother is wearing a necklace shaped as a Native American symbol.”

“My mother’s family has Native American roots. The necklace was inherited down through the family.”

“So you have it now?”

“No. It went missing after the…”

“The event that shall not be mentioned, got it,”

Despite popular belief, I do know when to stop asking questions. I might not always listen to the little voice telling me to stop right away, but the tortured look on Derek’s face makes me want to punch myself for asking all those questions, especially considering I have learned absolute nothing of value. For all I know, Talia Hale might not even have known what the damn symbol means; she just wore the damn thing because it was a family heirloom.

“Have you seen any wolves around here?”

Derek tenses up for a second, just a split second really, before he gets this weird expression on his face that looks like scowl but then again not really. He actually mostly looks kind of constipated which can’t really be good for him, but then he is just back to his usual scowling self and I can’t really point it out. Not that I would. Nope.

“I just saw this black wolf…”

“There haven’t been wolves in California in decades.”

“But I…”

“I don’t know what you saw, but there aren’t wolves in California.”

Like what the hell is his problem?! Sure, the dude seems to have muscles us normal people don’t even know exist and a jawlines that just makes you want to rub your chin all over it but that so doesn’t excuse you being a jackass to people.

“Why the hell are you back anyway?!”

“I have unfinished business to take care of. Not that it is any of your business.”

Right then we walks out from the trees and I can see my baby standing by the side of the road. How did he know where my jeep was? Has the guy been stalking me or something? Not that I am really stalk worthy, videogames and high school aren’t all that exciting.

I don’t know what compels me to open my mouth and possibly embarrass myself completely in front of the hottest guy on the planet let alone scream it after the poor dude, but seeing him walking away makes me feel all weird.

“Derek, people would care if you disappeared, so you shouldn’t be so careless!”

“Take care of yourself, Stiles!”

 

* * *

 

Around the time I manage to get behind the wheel of my jeep is when I get to take a look at my phone and it turns out I have a voicemail from my dad. A voicemail about the statement for Ms. Davis’ kidnapping. Seeing as I have just talked to the guy, I probably should have told Derek about my dad maybe wanting a statement from him, just to be polite and all that.

With my luck today, that issue solves itself when my jeep decides to breakdown right outside town. Why you might ask, well, the person who decides to pull over and help turns out to be no one other than our very own Mr. Scowl.

The scowling doesn’t improve when he sees me, but how he didn’t know that the very blue, distinctive jeep belongs to me is a mystery. He just left me right by it, so why?

“Hallo Derek, I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you doing? Had a good day?”

“Stiles…”

“Sure, I will stop, but could you be the nicest stranger ever and drop me off at the station?”

I have never seen anybody manage to look up giving and scowl at the same time but somehow Mr. Scowly Pants manages to pull it off. Then again the guy might not have an expression that doesn’t involve scowling.

He does have a really nice car, though. A black Camaro that makes me wish speed limits where a thing of fantasy, like the car _purrs_. Like genuinely _purrs_ when Derek drives and I just stare. I can’t even really apologize for it, because how can you not!

“My dad left me a message about a statement for Ms. Davis’ kidnapping. Have you…”

“I talked to him earlier.”

“What?”

“I came in and talked to him earlier when I heard what happened.”

“Right. Cool. Totally cool. Good choice there, my dad can be a pain in the ass if he wants something. Like really, I have seen him annoy people into just telling him what he wants. He hasn’t used his powers on me yet though. I am kind of excited about it. Did he do it with you? Not that you wouldn’t talk, you willingly came in, you want to talk, but you are a quiet person you know and my dad probably doesn’t have a lot of time so he just wanted it over with…”

“Stiles…”

“I am going to shut up.”

* * *

 

When Derek drops me off he looks more relieved than I would like. The guy doesn’t even wave or talk or anything, but then again he is all tall, dark and brooding. Those kind of guys probably don't do that kind of thing. Not that I would know. Beacon Hills doesn’t really have that many tall, dark, brooding types with an ass in jeans most of people would kill for.

To my luck, my dad and Deputy Cullen are the only officers at the station, so Deputy Cullen gets the pleasure of having to take my statement. He doesn’t seem all that interested in my statement, but then again if Derek gave his earlier, it is not like ours are going to be all that different.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski…”

“Please call me Stiles, you always call me Stiles.”

“Right, Stiles, can you tell me what happened yesterday when you were in contact with Ms. Davis. Please be as specific as possible.”

“Well, around nine, I think it was around nine, I talked to Derek Hale and my grandpa. My grandpa had to leave for a second because he had customers. We were at my grandparents’ diner, I didn’t mention that. Well, after my grandpa left Ms. Davis suddenly came in and talked to Derek and me. Usually, she can be a bit… eccentric I guess you can call it, but she seemed a little out of it. She talked about bad things were going to happen… here in town. She didn’t really explain a lot until suddenly she just left again. I guess it had to be around nine twenty or nine-twenty-five at that point. I talked to her earlier yesterday too, but that was the last time I spoke to her.”

“Can you remember anything more specific about what she told you?”

“Well, it doesn’t really make a lot of sense. First she warned us that horrible things were going to happened, then she mentioned that she had been trying to teach me, which makes sense because she has been helping me whenever I got stuck with homework, but still, the way she said it, it seemed like she meant something else. Then she mentioned the symbols and something about people not having reached maturation… I didn’t really understand that part.”

“Now, I will write your statement don for you and give it to the Sheriff. You will read it through and sign if you agree with the statement. If you remember anything, you know what to do, just tell your d… the Sheriff.”

“Sure, it’s been a pleasure, Cullen.”

“See you, kid. Take care, okay. Be careful.”

You know those times when you look at the clock and you realize just how late it actually is and you panic because you have to be somewhere _now_. Well, me sitting in the office and looking at the clock for the first time since I got here kind of made sure I had that experience.

I might not actually have any chance of player and despite the hate I have developed for 90 % of our lacrosse team, I still want to support Scott. He might actually need it today.

 

* * *

 

On my way out, I see my dad sitting by his desk and for some reason the black furry nightmare pops into my head. He has to know if there have been any wolf sightings lately. The only problem being that how do you ask your dad, the Sheriff, about something you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place? He would definitely be angry if he found out I had been out in the preserve let alone run into a wolf.

“Hi, dad, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, kid, what’s up?”

“Well, you see, we have been talking about endangered species at school and the teacher mentioned that there haven’t been any wolf sightings in California in forever and…”

“You didn’t believe him.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint, there have been no wolf sightings in California for decades.”

“Right, I just wanted to be sure.”

People always go on about how parents have instincts about when their children aren’t telling the truth or are in danger or something, but I have never believed it. Mainly, because I haven’t really seen any kind of proof it has ever existed until my dad decides to be a dad for the third time in two days. It has got to be a record for the guy.

“Are you okay, Stiles?”

“Yes, well, the jeep broke down a little outside town, so could you help…”

“I will send someone, but how did you get here?”

“Derek Hale dropped me off. He totally saved my stranded ass.”

“Well, don’t make a habit of it; the guy isn’t exactly good news.”

“Why would you say that? From all I have seen he seems like a decent guy. He has a tendency to do this scowly ting with his face, but beside that. It’s not like he has done anything.”

As much as I don’t agree with my dad’s sudden interest in parenting, I hate the look he gets in his eyes when he hears me talk about Derek. It doesn’t really feel like I am talking to my dad, it feels more like I am being grilled by the Sheriff and I really don’t like it.

I mean what I said to my dad. Derek hasn’t done anything and sure he might scowl and act all reclusive but he has been decent to me, which is more than what I can say for a lot of people.

“You are being strangely protective of a guy you don’t know.”

“Nah, I just don’t like it when innocent people get blamed.”

My dad definitely suspects something about Derek he doesn’t feel like sharing, but I don’t like it. Why can’t he just tell me what the hell is going on? Why can't _anyone_ tell me what the hell is going on?  


	4. Escalation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change some things in this chapter, nothing major, so it is not necessary to read it again if you are following the plot   
> Again I am sorry for last update on this chapter. I started university again last Monday and it is seriously kicking my ass. Physiology as it turns out is a lot of work, but hopefully I will be able to get another post up this weekend.   
> Nothing major happens in this chapter, but there are still a few things that needs to happen for things to move forward (Stiles' attitude mainly) and I am leaving you guys on a cliff hang, but I really hope you like it anyway
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos and let me know what you think <3  
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings   
> Stay safe

****Around halfway from the police station to the lacrosse field, I curse my baby for breaking down on me. The first time, I do the running Coach demands of us and, right now, I really wish I had started sooner, because my lungs are burning and my legs are protesting more than _I_ usually am.

It’s a miracle I make it in time, but nobody really notices that I am late anyway. Well, nobody notices until Coach sees me and walks straight over looking more than ready to start screaming.

“Great of you to show up, Bilinski!”

“Sorry, Coach…”

“It is your fault we are playing tonight…”

“Then maybe I should be allowed to actually participate in the playing tonight, Coach.”

“Drop the sarcasm Bilinski and sit down.”

Well, it is not surprising, but you would think someone (that would be me) could get some credit for convincing everybody to actually have the game that is going to responsible for most of the players’ college careers. I guess that is high school for you.

A small part of me wishes I hadn’t just run five miles just to be benched, because being benched suck. You would think I would be used to it by now, but sitting still on any flat surface has never been something I have excelled at.

From the moment, the games starts it is clear this is going to be Scott’s game. It almost seems like he can do nothing wrong, but, at the same time, he doesn’t seem like _him._ He has something almost animalistic about the way he plays. Everything from his speed to his strength makes every fiber scream that something is off, but how do you convince anybody that something is wrong with the player who is playing the game of his life?

The last few minutes, I can barely watch. Everyone around me is bursting with pride that we finally managed to win, that we might actually have a shot at winning state, but all I can see is my friend acting like a completely different person.

He didn’t even say hallo.

 

* * *

 

When the buzzer goes off and the game is over, everybody storms out on the field. Well, everybody except me. Not that anybody actually wants me out there because, sure, I might practice with them but I haven’t played a single minute this season.

Back in the locker room, the only reason I shower is my run from the station. Not that it takes long. None of the other guys actually seem ready to stop celebrating long enough to get their uniforms off and themselves into the showers, so I get them all to myself.

It is all chanting and backslapping and laughing because these guys just took one step closer to those lacrosse scholarships they have been dreaming about. Well, those and state.

Then suddenly Jackson punches my arm (a bit harder than necessary, but it’s Jackson) and then puts one of this arms around my shoulders. Suspicion starts washing over me and every one of my muscles tenses up getting ready to run, because Jackson never shows any kindness unless wants something or he is playing you. I am betting on the latter.

“After knowing you for almost eighteen years, Stilinski, I have got to say I never thought you had it in you to do something right, but it seems like you finally got it.”

Usually, Scotts comes to my rescue the second Jackson is in touching distance but he is nowhere to be seen. My first thought is that something must have happened to him, but he seems perfectly fine walking out of the locker room door a second later.

My heart is dropping because Scott never leaves without me after a game. He just doesn’t.

“Jackson, why don’t you stop being a jackass for once in your life and actually thank him, we all know Stiles really stepped up earlier.”

Having Danny defend me feels wrong. It screws with my head so instead of coming up with my usual sarcastic remark, I grab my bag determent to catch up with my friend, desperate to find out what the hell is going on with him.

Something must have happened.

Scott wouldn’t just abandon me like this.

 

* * *

 

After running around for the better part of fifteen minutes searching, I check my phone to see if he bothered texting or calling, but the only thing on it is a voicemail from my dad saying he is going to meet me for dinner at the diner later.

Then, the realization washes over me that _he actually left without me_. It’s not even just that, it is everybody about this damn day that makes me want to disappear into the darkness. It makes me want to forget all about this crabby life and just feel nothing. Nothing is a lot easier to handle than whatever this is.

My whole emotional turmoil doesn’t get better when I spot Derek Hale standing by his black Camaro. Everything about the guy confuses me, mainly because all of these emotions I have directed at him makes me feel things I don’t want to feel things my life would be so much easier if I didn’t feel.

The next thing, I know the living Greek statue drives away leaving me to wonder what the hell he was doing at here in the first place. Somehow I don’t think he is back here remembering his life before everything fell apart.

If he was maybe I could join him.

 

* * *

 

Having dinner with my dad is nothing something I looking forward to, mostly because I don’t want to explain that I didn’t actually play. He never actually shows up for any of my games and he doesn’t really ask questions so I haven’t really had to explain that I suck and the only reason I am on the team in the first place is because my best friend is the captain.

While waiting I help my grandma in the kitchen which distracts me long enough for my Adderall to kick in and ADHD to calm down. When my mind starts calming down, I get into my rhythm where everything I have to worry about is getting the food out.

Then my phone starts buzzing and then I realize that yes my day can actually get worse. The text is from my dad saying he can’t make it to dinner anyway because something has come up with the case. I want to scream at myself for actually believing that he would show up for once. He always bails on me when we have plans so I should have seen this coming.

It isn’t exactly something new.

The text comes in around the same time my grandma comes back from her break, so I walk out to my grandpa and sits down by the counter. The dinner crowd has left and the place is calmer than when I got here, so my grandpa actually has time to talk.

“When is your dad getting here?”

“He has to work so it will just be me tonight.”

He doesn’t say anything but I can tell my grandpa is angry, he never likes it when my dad puts his job over me, but he is the Sheriff, he kinda has to put his job ahead of everybody in a way. My grandpa always tries to comfort me, but we both know it stopped working ages ago.

“You know how it is whenever the media gets too interested in a case…”

“Now, speaking of media attention how did the game go?”

“They won, Scott played a great game.”

“You are on that team too, kid.”

“I am on the bench, grandpa. I am not really doing anything.”

It is not the first time we have had the discussion, but he knows when to leave it alone and when to push and tonight is really not the night to push. I am pretty sure tonight is not the night for anything besides getting to bed early so it can be over.

“How did the rest of your day go?”

“Well, I had to go to the station to make a statement about Ms. Davis, but something weird happened earlier actually. I was out in the preserve…”

“Genim…”

“I know, but please just let me finish; and I ran into this huge black wolf.”

My grandpa’s facial expression tells me he is somewhere between surprised and shocked. He also looks like he doesn’t know what to say, which doesn’t really happen all that often with him. He usually has a comeback for everything, something I inherited and perfected.

“Kid, there hasn’t been a wolf sighting in California in decades, you realize that, right?”

“Dad said the same thing, but…”

“No but Genim. There hasn’t been a wolf sighting in California in decades and leave it alone! It is too dangerous to be playing detective right now with everything going on. What were you even thinking going out there by yourself, because I am betting you went out there on your own. Do you have any self-preservation, Genim?”

I have never seen my grandpa like this before. He isn’t angry with me, not really, but it seems like there is more to this than just concern. He knows something he doesn’t want me to know.

 

* * *

 

Having to escape my grandpa’s worried expression, I decide to step outside and see if Scott will answer his damn phone, because if he isn’t going to come to me I am sure as hell going to haunt his ass until he tells me what is going on.

But he doesn’t answer his phone, but he could just be driving or eating dinner with his mom who doesn’t let him have his phone by the dinner table. So I send him a text asking where the hell he is.

Walking back in, I notice Derek sitting by himself in the back of the diner and a part of me feels strangely drawn to the guy despite my dad making it clear that he thinks he is bad news. It is not that I do. I actually like the guy even if he is a tad rude and unapproachable. Okay, maybe a bit more than a tad, but, still, he totally saved my ass earlier.

Oh shit! He is looking at me; the really scowly dude is looking straight at me and I really don’t know what to do. He knows I know he knows I am here, so I can’t just do nothing. Right? But do I walk over there? I am pretty sure he would just scowl and glare until I just leave, so that wouldn’t be fun for any of us, would it?

Then my body starts doing this weird thing where I know I should stop moving, a bit like when I know I should stop talking, but my mind just for some reason doesn’t connect with my body and I just keep going and going and going. This means I am awkwardly, _very awkwardly,_ waving at the guy currently looking at me like his eyebrows want to kill me.

When I somehow stop moving his eyebrows aren’t the only thing that look like they want to kill me. Why did I do this? Why couldn’t I just sit down and _not wave at the freaking Greek statue of a guy!_ Like what do I do with myself around those stupid cheekbones and generally handsomeness?

Oh God, he might actually be growling. Like _freaking_ _literally_ _growling_! Please just let the ground swallow me up or just please get me away from the leather jacket wearing person who makes me act even more like a spas than usual. Why did he even save me from that wolf? Like why?! Right now, I would take being stuck in that tree with that wolf over this because that wolf was there! No matter what they say that big ass wolf was there and I was not hallucinating or mistaken or anything. The wolf was there!

Why am I even thinking about this? I should be running. Running would be good right now, because running would get me very far away from the scowling piece of handsome man.

 

* * *

 

Instead of bolting for the front door like I actually want to do, I tell myself I need to say goodbye to my grandma and grandpa before leaving so I make my way to the back entrance which is right next to the kitchen. Honestly, it is more so Derek can’t watch me run away.

Right before the door, I notice the noise from the kitchen. It is my grandparents discussing something rather vividly in Polish and they only discuss something they don’t want me to understand since I don’t understand a word of Polish.

The bad feeling in my gut doesn’t get better when they mention my name over and over and I can’t deny that they are definitely discussing something about me. They are discussing something about me they don’t want me to know about, so that can’t be anything good, can it?

What the hell aren’t they telling me?

 

* * *

 

Last Monday, the school came with some explanation why we had the day after the game off, but after they mentioned us having the day off everybody pretty much stopped listening so I never really found out why. It is probably the usual, though, them having some sort of ridiculous meeting where they sit in a circle and discuss the progress they think they have made with the students.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. I am high school student, we never complain when we have a day off. Well, seeing as I am in the library on my day off looking for books about Native American symbols and mythology I can’t really say I am your normal high school student, but still.

The day off is necessary though, because yesterday sucked. It really did. No one is telling me anything anymore. It is like everybody joined in on this Tell-Stiles-Nothing Club where all they do is keep everything they possibly can from Stiles. The worst is that Scott hasn’t even bothered answering any of my damn texts and he is supposed to be my best friend.

What do you even do about that? Your best friend who won’t answer you? What have I done to him anyway? I have been the best damn friend the last couple of days trying to calm him down and help him figure what the freaking hell has been going on with him, so I don’t think I deserve this!

Great! Just great! The only person I don’t want to see right now in the library with his scowling eyebrows and perfect cheekbones. Of course, Derek Hale has to be in the library the exact same time as me, because life just isn’t fair. No, it has to keep throwing the Goddamn scowling mysterious stranger in my face. _Why does this keep happening to me?!_

The smile on Ms. Morrell’s face tells me she knows exactly what I have been going after I managed to grab the books I wanted and avoid Derek finding out that I was ever in a five mile radius of him. She doesn’t say anything, but if she had I might not have been able to hold back from punching her in her face because I have reached my limit.

“You have a good day, Mr. Stilinski”

Right when I am about to rip her a new one, honestly, I totally was, but then my phone starts buzzing. Apparently, Scott has finally decided to reply to the hilarious amount of texts I decided to send him yesterday, because I really needed my friend when my grandparents started discussing things about me in Polish, but my best friend didn’t have time.

Okay, I might have made the wrong decision about waking up early after sleeping like hell last night. My ADHD is acting up and it is definitely affecting my mood because a sleepy Stiles is a cranky Stiles. The text doesn’t really help either. Why? Well, it turns out the text isn’t from said best friend, it is from my dad asking me if I want to have lunch, a lunch we both know he is going to cancel at the last minute because that is what my dad does.

 

* * *

 

After internally debating where to go, I end up at diner before the debate is even over. It is a bit contradictive going to the one place I know I won’t be alone when I am pretty sure I can’t handle people right now. Sitting in the back instead of the counter enhances my odds significantly and it is early, so the usual crowd won’t be in for a couple of hours, so I have some time.

A little less time than expected it turns out because as soon as I have made myself comfortable, Scott walks in. My grandpa greets him like always and why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t know that my best friend has been an ass for the past twenty-four hours.

“Scott! Congratulations on the win last night.”

“Thanks Mr. Stilinski.”

“Where did you go after the game? Stiles came here like you two always do, so I was a bit surprised when you didn’t show up.”

“My mom wanted to have dinner just the two of us.”

“Well, your mom is a phenomenal chef so I can understand that. Can I get you anything?”

“Have you seen Stiles?”

Mentally willing my grandpa to not tell Scott where I am is a lost cause. I will have to face Scott any second now, but that doesn’t mean I am anywhere ready to be nice to him after everything that went down yesterday. I am tired of being the one constantly working for our friendship.

“In the back, he is reading.”

“Right, thank you.”

Then he comes and I desperately try to focus on the pages, to focus on reading some of this, but it is a lost cause. Everything it seems is a lost cause today.

“Do you have any idea where I went after the game?”

“Well, hallo to you too.”

“Stiles…”

“Dude, you just told my grandpa. You went home and had dinner with your mom.”

“No, I didn’t… I think I had another blackout…”

Of course he has to come up with one of the few explanations that actually excuses being a-wall all of last night. Why shouldn’t he? Scott is the master of never doing a freaking thing wrong.

“Anything different this time?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so… the last thing I remember is getting home…”

You can almost see him going through everything he remembers, everything that could help him find out why this keep happening to him. I want to help him, but how do we even do this? Do we just hope that when we do a timeline he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with any of the things going on? What if we can’t? Do we tell my dad and hope he can exonerate him? And what if my dad can’t exonerate him, what if he actually did it?

“I don’t think so… did you find out something new?”

“I have tried figuring out what Ms. Davis meant with the symbols and the skinwalkers, but so far I have got nothing. There is plenty mythology concerning the skinwalkers, but I can’t really see how any of it is connected to the symbols. They don’t really match any of the ones I have found.”

Except for the symbol around Talia Hale’s neck, but how do you explain that? Oh, I happened to be researching the old Hale Murders and you know what? I found one of the symbols, so isn’t it just great that it might be connected to a mass homicide? It gets better, because then I happened to be in the preserve yesterday caught in a tree with a huge black wolf growling at me and then I saw the second symbol in weird ass grass. Because that is just going to go over great with the guy, who is already a nervous wreck.

“Why didn’t you try to find me after the game?”

“Scott, you didn’t just say that…”

“What?”

“I freaking did look for you, I looked after you all over school but in the end I just figured you wanted some time alone or to celebrate with your mom. What was I supposed to think? You didn’t even talk to me at all during the freaking game and you haven’t answered _a single text_!”

“Stiles…”

“No, you don’t get to Stiles me right now, Scott. You couldn’t get your ass out of there fast enough, so what could I have done anyway?!”

This might be the first time I have yelled at Scott since he accidentally ate my lunch that one time. Back then he started crying, but now he looks ready to start yelling back.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me, Stiles?”

“Have you noticed anything different about yourself?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You were faster and stronger than usual at the game yesterday, you didn’t seem like yourself.”

“I have been training harder lately… and I have been stressed out…”

“So you don’t think it could have anything to do with what has been going on?”

The whole yelling back thing is definitely looking like it is going to happen. Scott actually looks about ready to punch me in the face right now, but what am I supposed to do? Ignore the fact that he suddenly starts playing totally different around the same time he starts having blackouts.

“What are you even implying?! That I am _cheating_?!”

“Scott…”

“No, I can’t even look at you right now!”

Then he storms out of here and I feel awful. We both know he would never cheat. He looks lacrosse too much to ever consider ruining the game by cheating and I get that he doesn’t want to consider that whatever is going on is more than just blackouts, but he can’t afford to put his head in the sand.

The little nagging voice inside my head won’t stop pointing out that I could have handled that a lot better and I probably should have. I should have been a better friend to a guy who is scared out of his mind. But if this is his reaction how am I supposed to tell him stuff? He is my best friend so I want to tell him how I keep running into Derek, recognizing the symbols, or the wolf in the preserve, but how can I if he won’t wait around long enough for me to explain.

Enough people have told me I stupid as it is when it comes to that wolf, but I know it was there! I freaking stared at it for two hours straight, so I sure as hell know I wasn’t imagining it! But how can I prove that? No one wants to believe me and no one tells me anything anymore.

Suddenly, a scowly face pulls me out of my funk because staring at Derek Hale with only a few feet between you can do that. He looks strangely less growly that usual and it is freaking me out a bit. Is this his version of trying to be nice? Does he want something from me? What could he even want from me? I am just the resident the awkward, gangly teenager.

I mean he is like freaking Adonis only slightly more scowly and growly and that makes me nervous. I _can’t_ even get playing time on my own high school lacrosse team where the coach still doesn’t know my freaking name. I am the Sheriff’s kid and he doesn’t even know my name!

“Derek… Derek Hale… Derek Hale sitting right across from me… right… Not that you aren’t nice to look at, you are very nice to look at today. I mean you always look nice. You know you are a handsome guy, but not scowling would do wonders for your face. Not that your face isn’t nice! Or scowling is wrong! It would just…”

“Are all your friends that selfish or are they just so oblivious they don’t notice that you are going through something?”

Oh wow! I don’t even know if that was a bad attempt at being nice or just a way to tell me that he _really_ doesn’t like me. Who does he even think he is? He just got into town and now he thinks he can judge the rest of us?!

“You don’t know what you are talking about, dude.”

“Don’t call me _dude_.”

“I am going to call you whatever I want. Scott has enough to deal with right now, so sorry if I choose not to unload all of my problems on him and what do you even know about either of us!”

Then the scowling comes back full force and I really regret ever opening my mouth around this guy. For some reason I get the distinct feeling that he could kill me and no one would ever know and I am not about to find out if that feeling is right or wrong.

“I know how this town works, Stiles. You grow up together and you think you are going to be best friends forever, but you probably don’t tell him half of what goes on in your life, am I right? You say it is because you don’t want him to worry, but, honestly, you are scared he is going to leave you behind. If he is worth having around, he is going to bail just because your life sucks sometimes, so you need to be selfish sometimes. You need to start taking care of yourself.”

Then he just leaves. Derek Hale gives _me_ a speech like that and then he just _leaves_! What am I even supposed to do with that? Does he care about me? Or is he feeling sorry for the awkward teenager or guilty? Why would he care? It is not like he knows me? Sure he saved my ass out in the preserve, but that doesn’t mean he get to dish out advice left and right. He isn’t responsible for me!

Where did the guy even come from? One second the place is empty and then he is just _there_. Is he watching me or something, because how did he even hear my fight with Scott? He wasn’t here when Scott walked in, so how does he know?

 

* * *

 

Eventually, I manage to focus on the book again. Focus is maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but I manage to get through a few more pages on Native American symbols before my phone buzzing like crazy breaks my concentration.

When I see it’s my dad calling, my first instinct is ‘why the hell would he call me?’ until I remember he wanted to have lunch and this is probably just him calling to cancel like I anticipated. I almost don’t answer it, but he would probably just call my grandpa and have him tell me and I don’t want my grandpa feeling bad about my dad bailing on me for the second time in two days.

“Stiles, where are you?”

“Well, hallo to you too, dad. I am at the diner with grandpa and grandma.”

“You stay there, okay?”

“Dad, is something wrong?”

“No matter what you hear, I need you to stay at the diner, okay?”

“Dad…”

“Stiles, please promise me you are going to stay!”

“Fine! I promise I am going to stay at the diner, God! What the hell is going on?!”

“Stiles, someone was attached last night…”


	5. When Has This Become Normal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a big reveal in here and some explanation about my take on the werewolf mythology. It is going to be different from a lot all the other stories out there, so if you have some questions, please just ask.  
> Physiology really is kicking my ass so I hope I will get a new chapter up every week, but sometimes it probably won't happen and other times it might be two chapters, but I have decided on a minimum of one chapter per two weeks even if I am busy. 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments, I would love to get some feedback and ideas on this story.  
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings   
> Stay safe xx

After reassuring my dad I am not going to set a foot outside the diner before he gets here, it feels like my mind collapses onto itself. I must have dropped something, probably my mug, because the next thing I know my grandpa is sitting next to me trying to get me to calm down.

I don’t really understand why. I don’t feel upset, not really. It isn’t until I realize I can’t hear what he is saying I realize I am having a panic attack. My entire body is shaking and my breathing has become very close to hyperventilation. My vision hasn’t started blurring yet, but I can feel that it is just around the corner.

Then my grandma comes and holds my hands really tight. The slight pain from her grip centers me enough to take the deep breathes she is demanding of me. It slowly brings me back, but as always it leaves me tired and on the edge of tears.

“Stiles, sweetheart, what is wrong?”

“Dad called… there has been an _attack_. Someone has been attacked, grandma…”

“Is your dad all right?”

“He just wanted me to promise… he made me promise not to leave.”

“And you won’t, kid. Grandma is going to go make you a hot chocolate, so we can get your blood sugar back up and then your are going to enjoy that book of yours until your dad shows up, okay? You are going to be all right, kid…”

The wind chime from the door abruptly lets us know someone else is here. Both my grandparents squeeze my hands before leaving me. I know they aren’t technically leaving me, they wouldn’t, but it feels strange sitting here with my head filled with all kinds of horrible thoughts.

Who was attacked? Do they know who did it? Does this have something to do with Ms. Davis’ disappearances? What if it is her? I don’t really know if I could stand knowing I have really lost her. How does anyone do this? How do they just go out in the world and decide to hurt people?

A mug of steaming hot chocolate being held in front of your face can scare you and no matter what I will deny that the scream that left my lips was anything but manly. Very manly. It doesn’t help my slightly bruised ego that it isn’t my grandpa but _Derek Hale_ holding the mug. Like does this guy _live_ for putting me in embarrassing situations?

“What are you doing here?”

I hesitantly take the hot chocolate from him and find that it has the tiny marshmallows in it that I love. My grandma has clearly made it but what the hell is Derek doing being the bearer of such delightful goods.

“I came in for my coffee and you grandfather explained what happened and asked me to keep you company. Apparently, the diner is going to be busy soon.”

That might very well be the most he has ever spoken to me without him telling me shut up or having his eyebrows look like they want to kill me. They actually don’t look all that murderous right now. It is a good look on him.

“So you are babysitting me?”

“No, I am…”

“Please cut the bullshit. We both know my grandpa sent you down here to babysit me because he doesn’t think I can handle myself right now…”

“Are you alright?”

“You know what, why don’t we make an agreement? We are not going to talk to each other. I am already freaking out as it is and you make me nervous, so just please don’t talk to me… please?”

Derek just nods quietly and starts drinking his coffee. I try to go back to focusing on my book, but my mind is racing and Derek sitting right across the table looking as handsome as ever isn’t really helping my concentration either.

 

* * *

 

It takes what feels like hours for my dad to show up and the whole not talking to each other thing, I didn’t really think it through. Okay, maybe I thought it through, but I didn’t think Derek would actually be around an hour later. Not talking for an hour while awake, it might be some sort of record for me and _it’s hard!_ Around fifteen minutes in every instinct is telling me to go on some sort of _really awkward_ ramble, but somehow I manage to keep my mouth shut.

I can’t say my dad looks too pleased to see Derek sitting across from me, but he manages to hug me and do all the mandatory parental fussing before he directs any attention at my company.

“Well, Derek, I didn’t expect to see you here…”

“Grandpa asked him to keep me company after I had a panic attack. He is just being nice.”

Who is the most surprised out of the two of them, I don’t know, but they both have the whole surprised raised eyebrows thing down. It takes minutes before either of them pulls themselves together enough to get their eyebrows back to a normal level, but that just gives me more time to internally laugh at the pair of them.

My dad seems to get his voice back the fastest.

“Then thank you for looking out for my son.”

“He is a good kid, it wasn’t a problem.”

“Have the both of you been here all afternoon?

“I was at the library earlier and then I came here to read. I saw Derek at the library and he came here earlier and was gone maybe twenty minutes before coming back. What is going on dad?”

Whatever this thing is it is scaring my dad, who never gets scared, who never lets himself show any kind of emotions and right now, he seems seconds from breaking down completely.

“The attack, it was an animal attack but we can’t identify the victim. The hospital has him stabilized, but he had no identification on him and he was mutilated being physical recognition, so they are running blood samples to get an ID. There were claw marks everywhere…”

 

* * *

 

After saying goodbye to my grandparents who hand over so much food we will have enough for days we make our way home. Everything looks the same as it did this morning, but it doesn’t feel the same. Everything about this makes something inside me scream that it is all connected, but how the hell are the symbols connected to animal attacks? How is Ms. Davis’ disappearance connected?

“How was your day, kid?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary really, like I said I went to the library and then the diner. I had a fight with Scott, but it is probably just the stress from everything going on with lacrosse and the mortgage that is getting to him. He has been driving himself crazy lately.”

“Scott hasn’t been acting normal?”

How the hell did my dad get from me having _a fight with Scott_ to _Scott isn’t acting normal_?

“I didn’t say that. I don’t think anybody from the senior class can say they have been acting normal, but everybody is just worried about college and the future. You know how it is.”

“You don’t seem all that worried?”

Excuse me _what?!_ How can this man say anything about me being worried or not? If you don’t count the past couple of days I haven’t spoken to him in _years! Years!_ Sure, he might leave the odd voicemail asking me to lunch but I always get a second one apologizing for having to cancel, so he doesn’t know about what worries me!

“I _am_ worried, dad, but I have a decent GPA and my SAT scores weren’t that bad so I can probably get a scholarship, most of the guys on the lacrosse team can’t.”

I have to bit my tong not to add ‘you would know that if you actually cared enough to ask’. I am sure as hell not going to tell him I have the highest GPA of the entire senior class, which means I am well on my way to becoming valedictorian, and my SAT scores were pretty much perfect. If he doesn’t bother enough to ask he doesn’t deserve to know.

“I planned on asking your grandpa, but have you heard anything at the diner about what is happening? People talk…”

“I told you the deputy, who took my statement yesterday, dad, I haven’t heard anything.”

Everything from his tense shoulders to the distant look in his eyes tells me he wants to ask more questions, he just doesn’t know how to ask them without me yelling at him. He promised me years ago he wouldn’t go to me for information on my friends and I promised I would come to him if I ever found out something he needed to know.

I would tell him about Scott, but there isn’t really a lot to tell. My best friend is having blackouts and wakes up covered in mud and with t-shirts covered in blood. What do you even do with that?

“You have to promise me not to stay out of the preserve, Stiles. What did this hasn’t been put down and it could attack again. It’s too dangerous for you to go around playing detective.”

“I won’t go, I promise.”

Except, it just might be the one promise I won’t be able to keep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, the news of the attack has already made the front page, but seeing as Beacon Hills only have one paper and never any real news, it isn’t that surprising. Whoever wrote seems to think it is a mountain lion attack, but it doesn’t make sense. Mountain lions don’t attack humans under normal circumstances and most of the attacks are in summer and spring when they have cubs around or during winter starvation, but it isn’t as big a problem in California.

It just doesn’t feel right. Something about this way they just brush it off without even warning people. It almost seems like they are trying to make it seem less than it really is, but why would they do that? Then I realize I didn’t recognize the game of whoever wrote the article, which doesn’t make any more sense. The guys at the paper wouldn’t give that story to a rookie.

I can’t shake the feeling and even when I scrambling through the books in my locker desperately trying to locate my chemistry book that seems to have pulled a disappearing act. After I finally find it and manage to close the damn locker, Scott stands on the other side scaring the living shit out of me and he doesn’t look any better.

“It happened again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then he reaches his backpack towards me and opens it a little. Inside lies the one thing I really didn’t need to see today. Inside is a new t-shirt soaked in blood. It makes my heart drop and my throat close up, because is it too much of a coincidence that my best friend shows up the day after an attack with a t-shirt soaked in blood.

When the worst of the shock passes, I realize we are standing in the middle of the hallway with a bloody t-shirt in a school bag, so I quickly grab Scott and pull him into the closest empty classroom. We need to talk about it and we can’t do it in front people.

“Scott, you need to start talking…”

“I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything…”

“What is the last thing you _do remember_?”

“I remember walking out of the diner… after our fight and then… nothing until I woke up this morning. Nothing…”

“That’s over twelve hours…”

The blackouts are lasting longer and they aren’t only happening when Scott is sleeping anymore. Everything is getting worse and somehow _this_ has become my life now.

Then it hits me hard; if Scott doesn’t remember anything from yesterday afternoon until this morning he doesn’t know about the attack. No one has told him yet.

“I have to tell you something and you are probably not going to like it…”

“What is going on, Stiles?”

“Yesterday, my dad got called out to the preserve; a person had been attacked. They are writing it off as a mountain lion attack, but something about it doesn’t feel right.”

“Do you think I could have anything to do with it?”

His eyes have gone completely cold, but could you really forget attacking another human being? What about the t-shirts? Is he leaving them for his conscious self to find as some sort of clue or is it someone else’s mind games? In the end, it comes down to one thing; we need to find out what’s going on and we need to find out fast.

“Honestly, I don’t know, Scott. Right now I don’t know anything, but we can’t rule out that your black outs might have something to do with what is happening, but we need to find out for sure. We have to start doing research so I need you to write down when you have had the blackouts, if you know how long they lasted and if you noticed anything particular when you woke up. If you send them to me I will see what I can find out, okay?”

“You know, I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t here. I am sorry for accusing you yesterday; I know you were just worried about me.”

“I could have handled the whole thing better, I knew that the second I had said it, but you can’t keep ignoring this. You can’t risk it.”

 

* * *

 

After school I make my way to the library for the third day in a row. I usually come here more than most people in town, but this is a lot even for me, but I feel like there is something I am missing. Something I should know by now.

So I keep reading every book I can find, but I don’t even know if I am reading the right books or if they are as Derek so eloquently put it ‘a piece of modernized crab’. But who do you ask about literature about Native American symbols and mythology? Well, usually I would ask Ms. Davis but that isn’t an option right now and there aren’t really any other people in town with random knowledge about random topics.

“Hallo Stiles, how is your father doing after the attack yesterday?”

“A bit shocked, those things don’t happen a lot in Beacon Hills.”

“Are you interested in Native American history?”

“I guess, it is more the mythology and symbols than the history, though.”

“Have you talked to the dark haired young man, Doctor Hale?”

Who the hell is this woman talking about? Doctor Hale? Then the dark haired young man bit gets my brain working, because there aren’t exactly a lot of dark haired young men. There are a lot of blondes and brown haired people, no. Ms. Morrell wouldn’t call any of the high school students young man either, she knows their names and I don’t know anybody named… Hale…

“Are you talking about Derek Hale? Is he a doctor?”

“He doesn’t have a medical degree if that is what you are asking, but he has a Ph.D. in Native American folklore. Maybe he could help you with your research?”

“Sure, I will ask him. Thank you.”

I manage to sound like a normal human being but on the inside my mind is a mess. To say that I am surprised might be the understatement of the century, because who the hell would have thought Derek Hale would have a Ph.D. I don’t even really think I pictured him having any kind of education; the man doesn’t exactly do a lot except go to the library and drink coffee as far as I have seen, but maybe that what people do when they have a Ph.D. in Native American folklore.

Who even decides to study that?

 

* * *

 

I (of course) end up running into Derek at my grandparents’ diner when he comes into order coffee. That part I don’t understand either, because it’s not even like their coffee is that good, sure my grandpa makes a decent cup of coffee, but I only drink it because I get it for free.

I guess the diner might be the only public place where people would leave him alone if he asked for it. It is one of the reasons the more odd people (me included) come here, because they know they won’t be bothered unless they want to be bothered.

“Hey Derek, do you have five minutes? I want to talk to you about something.”

Derek looks suspicious and slightly dumbstruck that I am actually speaking to him. I can’t exactly blame him because a part of me wants to run far away and never come near Derek again, because every time I do I end up doing something embarrassing.

“First of all, thank you for staying with me yesterday. You didn’t have to and I appreciate it even if I don’t always seem it. Second of all, Ms. Morrell mentioned that you have a Ph.D. in Native American folklore and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

“I don’t know if I can help, but I will try.”

“How much do you know about skinwalkers? I have been reading a lot of books but they don’t agree on, well, anything really.”

“First of all, you need to understand that skinwalkers were thought of as people, they weren’t thought of as another species, so they were good and bad the way people are good and bad. That reflects on the stories about them, because some saw them as protectors and others as symbols of death. Some sources even say that most people are born with the potential to become a skinwalker, depending on how connected they are to the spirit realm, but not everybody becomes one.”

“But what decides if they become one or not? Is it just chance or what is it?”

“Most stories agree that it happens around maturation, which is usually around the age of eighteen. Sometimes it happened earlier, especially if the person knew he or she was a skinwalker because they could force the connection. There were other unexplained cases, but there aren’t a lot of sources about those. It doesn’t say exactly why some people became skinwalkers and others didn’t if they both had the potential to become one, so I guess some of it was chance or risk depending on how you look at it.”

“Do you have any books about any of this I can read?”

“I will look into it, but why are you so interested in skinwalkers?”

“It was supposed to be research for a school paper, but I can’t really control it when I start. Scott likes to call it my research benders.”

“Right…”

Derek sends me this look like he knows I am lying, but how the hell would he know that? I have had a lot more absurd research topics for school papers than Native American folklore, but then again he wouldn’t know that since he doesn’t know me. Still, I get the feel that he isn’t exactly telling me everything and that doesn’t sit right with me.

Honestly, I am getting really tired of the withholding the truth business everybody has got going on. Everybody from my dad to my grandparents to Scott and now Derek seem to deliberately keeping secrets from me, but that is going to stop.

If they don’t want to tell me then I am going to find out for myself.

 

* * *

 

Despite my life as the Sheriff’s kid I don’t exactly have a lot of practice following people. Especially not following people when I don’t want them to know they are being followed. Some might call it stalking, but I don’t like calling it that. It makes it seem like I am doing something wrong and acquiring information other people are withholding can’t be wrong.

After fifteen minutes of walking around town we reach the edge of the preserve. By then I am seriously considering just walking back and calling it quits, but then a few hundred feet into the woods he stops up in the middle of a small clearing.

When Derek sticks around, I decide to climb up in one of the trees so I don’t get discovered by whomever it seems like he is meeting up with. He doesn’t seem all that patient with them, but who does he even have to meet up with? He doesn’t exactly seem to know a lot of people in town.

Then Scott walks into the clearing looking pale and just miserable and my jaw drops. Why the hell is Scott meeting with Derek and why didn’t Scott tell me about it?

“Why did you want to meet me? I don’t even know you.”

“I am here to help you.”

“What would you help me with? I haven’t exactly asked for your help.”

“Well, you seem to need it. Over the last couple of weeks you have gotten faster and stronger and you have probably smelled things you feel like I shouldn’t be able to. You have probably even noticed that you get angry faster than usual and when you do you want to lash out. You might still have enough control to stop yourself, but eventually you won’t be able to…”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I am taking that as a yes. Did you start having blackouts yet? You probably have; maybe just for a few hours at first while you were asleep, so you could dismiss it as nothing, until you started waking up covered in dirt. It must have gotten a bit harder by then, right? Denying it I mean.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I know what you are.”

“What I am? You make it sound like I am a monster…”

“If you aren’t careful you could become one. You are like me, Scott, you are skinwalker.”

Even from the tree I can see Scott’s eye widening in shock and disbelief. It is like I can almost hear him trying to convince himself that Derek is telling lies, but a part of him wants to believe him, because then he would have answers. He would know what is going on.

“Skinwalker?”

“Some people call them shapeshifters, I am a werewolf and so are you.”

“Werewolf? Are you telling me I am going to turn into a furry animal during the full moon?”

“It is more complicated than that. You have a connection to your spirit animal and it will be easier to transform during the full moon because the spirit realm and our world is more connected during that time. Usually, you would find out around your eighteens birthday where you would transform and someone would teach you, but someone is forcing you to transform too early and without your knowledge… that is why you have been having the blackouts. You are your most vulnerable when you sleep and whoever is doing this has taken advantage of that to force the transformation. The blackouts are your mind’s way of handling the stress, it closes down.”

“What do we do about this? What _can_ we do about this?”

“I am going to train you. I am going to make sure whoever is doing this can’t force you to keep doing it anymore. In the meantime, I suggest you start wearing something made of silver and iron. It makes it harder for them to control you.”

“How do you even know all of this?”

“My entire family was skinwalkers, I have known about this all my life.”

Then Derek turns around and starts walking. Scott looks like he is about to sit down and cry, because who would leave someone after that? Who would tell someone like that?

“I will call you when training starts, until then please don’t do anything stupid.”

When I thought Derek was keeping something from me, I can say I didn’t expect _this_. My life has definitely just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated, most of all because some part of my mind doesn’t even doubt a word that just came out of his mouth.

It might seem insane and stupid, but it explains so much. Ms. Davis talked about people the symbols forcing people who haven’t reached maturation and those people would be skinwalkers. It would explain why Scott has started transforming and why it is connected to the symbols. She was even warning us that night in the diner, which is probably even why she disappeared.

It explains why Talia Hale was wearing the symbol around her neck, because her entire family was skinwalkers. It even explains why the attack looked like an animal attack, because whoever did it was a skinwalker. Unfortunately, it also means that Scott could be neck deep in the disappearance and the attack without even knowing.

The most important thing is that I have found out what we need to do now. We need to find whoever is controlling Scott, because they are probably behind the whole thing. Only, how the hell do I explain all of this to my dad?

 

* * *

 

The moment I step into my room, I am on my phone calling Scott. I can’t wait for him to tell me so we can talk about what we are going to do next. I wonder if Derek would let me be there for Scott’s training, because that might actually be really cool. I wonder if Derek is right and Scott is a werewolf like him, I have always wanted to see one.

It takes a while for Scott to pick up but he is probably freaking out right now. I can’t blame the guy, I don’t know what I would do if some stranger came up to me and told me I am a skinwalker. Well, I would probably laugh at them rather badly, because why would someone think that the awkward scrawny teenager is a skinwalker?

“It’s Scott.”

“Dude, it is Stiles. I just wanted to check in and see if you have found out anything new.”

“Anything new?”

“Yeah, you know about you _situation_. The one I am helping you with?”

“No, I have barely gotten any of my homework done…”

Then it hits me like a punch in the face and I can actually feel the air leaving him lungs.

_Scott isn’t going to tell me._

Scott isn’t going to tell me that he met with Derek or what he told him.

I barely bother saying goodbye to him before hanging up, because I can stand talking to him right now. I don’t even know how I am going to face him tomorrow, because what do I say to him? Hi buddy, I know you are lying to me and you really should have told me.

I am _his best friend!_ He is supposed to tell me this stuff. I am supposed to be helping him with it; _I am helping him with it!_ So how can he keep it from me?


	6. Small Acts of Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is here, yay!   
> The Derek/Stiles part of this chapter I actually really like - what do you think? Anything you want to change?   
> Does any of you have any theories about what is going on? I would love to know what you think!
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos and tell me what you think.  
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> stay safe

Over the years, several psychologists have diagnosed me as emotionally detached, which pretty much mean that I have an inability to connect with others emotionally in order to prevent situations that trigger anxiety. It worked too, because I haven’t had a panic attack in years. Well, until a few days ago that is, because suddenly I have had two in a matter of days.

For some reason that makes me want to scream because I had things under control. Until a few days ago, I had everything under control, but then people started keeping things from me. They have probably been keeping things from me a lot longer, I realize that, but knowing makes me feel like I am losing control.

Having everybody I love keep secrets makes me feel sick and tired of being the good one, the one everybody counts on, because I have no one to count on. Not even my best friend, so who do I talk to? Who do I come to when my world is falling apart?

All of those people make me angrier than I have been in a really long time and, suddenly, all those emotions I had packed into nice little boxes won’t stay put anymore and it makes me want to scream and punch things. I have had enough.

 

* * *

 

Walking down the hallway, I desperately try to block out Scott who keeps going on and on about some girl. He doesn’t even realize I am not speaking to him and it only makes me angrier – he doesn’t even have the decency to feel guilty for not telling me!

After, I have managed to find my chemistry book in my locker I even close it really hard to see if I can get _some sort of reaction_ out of him, but no. He doesn’t even bat an eyelash, he just keeps going on and on about some girl who needed to borrow a pen in the administration office.

All I can think is why the hell didn’t they have a pen in the administration office? I don’t really see the importance of her _accepting_ the pen, which he has been going on about for five minutes now so to him it seems pretty important.

“Stiles, you should see her! Her eyes are so kind and her _smile_! Stiles, when she smiles I just…”

Then I just leave him standing there, because I don’t want to hear about her smile or her eyes I just want my best friend to _notice_ for once. I can’t help but think back to Derek’s words ‘You need to be selfish sometimes. You need to start taking care of yourself.’

“Stiles! Stiles, wait!”

He finally noticed, but I am not going to slow down; he doesn’t deserve that. I speed up and end up being the first to sit down in chemistry, which has to be a first for me. I never put myself in a situation where I have to endure Adrian Harris longer than necessary, but, for the first time, Harris is the lesser of two evils.

After being best friends for over fifteen years, Scott and I both know we don’t tell each other everything. No friends tell each other _everything,_ but Scott being a skinwalker slash werewolf is one of those things I would assume you share with your best friend.

It takes Scott five minutes to show up looking like a lost puppy. Then he sits down next to me like usual, but I move my things to the work station furthest away from my friend, which seems to make my message hit home. He looks so miserable every instinct wants me to comfort my friend and apologize. I don’t like it, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having everybody important to me think it is okay to lie to my face and omission is just a lie wrapped a little differently.

 

* * *

 

With my luck, I end up being the only one sitting alone at a work station so when Harris walks in he looks like a little kid in a candy shop. He is going to make my life miserable today and I instantly regret walking away from Scott’s table instead of just ignoring his attempt at contact.

Then a beautiful brunette with big doe eyes and a Disney princess vibe about her walks in. She honestly looks like small birds dress her in the morning and the male population in the class looks ready to defend her honor.

A few seconds later, when Harris has introduced her as Allison Argent and told her to find a seat, everybody else realizes the only available seat is next to me. Every guy looks ready to kill me and I couldn’t care less that she has to sit next to me as long as she doesn’t fuck with my GPA.

“Hi, I am Allison Argent…”

“He just introduced you, I know your name.”

“Right, what is your name?”

She sounds so desperately freaked out that I am not instantly swooning at her feet that a part of me actually feels bad for her. She probably never had anybody tell her no in her life, but I am really not in a mood to be all patient and nice at the moment.

“I am Stiles Stilinski and no, Stiles is not my real name, but you wouldn’t be able to pronounce my real name anyway so I am not going to tell you.”

“Have you grown up here?”

“Yup, born and raised in Beacon Hills like pretty much everybody else.”

“I guess you are all pretty close then?”

“Not really. You really shouldn’t be talking to me, you know. It won’t help you make friends with anyone popular and it _really_ won’t help you get on the good side of Adrian Harris; he pretty much hates my guts.”

“That wasn’t what I…”

“If you want someone to swoon at your feet and tell you how utterly perfect you are, you should consider talking to my former best friend.”

“Former best friend…?”

“He is the drooling puppy by the window in the front.”

Scott turns around looks hurt and confused the second the words ‘former best friend’ leave my lips and the kicked puppy expression doesn’t get any better when I call him a drooling puppy.

Honestly, I only said those things because I knew he would be listening with his new enhanced senses he decided to lie to me about, since the administration office girl and Allison Argent statistically has to be the same girl, considering the amount of new students Beacon Hills has a year.

Then just to underline how much of a loser I am at this school without Scott McCall, Lydia Martin leans over from the work station next to ours and touches Allison’s arm.

“Just leave him alone, he isn’t worth it.”

 

* * *

 

For the rest of chemistry, Allison and I hardly speak to each other unless it is strictly necessary. The experiment, I could have done on my own and on occasion when the awkwardness edges on unbearable I consider just asking her if she wants me to just do it, but Allison doesn’t seem like she would actually accept the offer so I keep my mouth shut.

Next period is my advanced algebra class, which happen to be one of the classes I don’t share with Scott and usually I just sleep through it, but this whole day is screwing with my head. All this anger is just simmering just under my skin making my ADHD unbearable.

Whenever my ADHD acts up under normal circumstances I go to the bathroom to take some more Adderall, but today I don’t want to take any Adderall. Today, I just don’t want to be invisible.

“Mr. Stilinski, would you please solve the problem by the board?”

“Not really, Ms. Charleston.”

“Excuse me?”

“You asked me if I wanted to solve the problem and I said no.”

“Mr. Stilinski, I might have phrased that as question but it really wasn’t.”

Everything inside of me is pulling me in different directions. One side I really want to tell her that she can’t force a student to solve a problem if said student refuses, but on the other side, I don’t want to piss her off more than necessary and then the third side just want to see how far I can push her before she snaps because right now she looks ready to break.

“Honestly, I don’t care today…”

“Let’s see how much you care about detention, Mr. Stilinski, because that is where you are going this afternoon.”

Honestly, I think a small part of me want this to happen. The little voice in my head told me pushing her this far would land me in detention, but I can’t find the will to care. It’s not like I haven’t been in detention before, Harris gives me detention at least once a week, but this is the first time I have actually done it on purpose.

 

* * *

 

Detention doesn’t bother me. I like the library, even if I am not so fond of the expression on Ms. Morrell’s face when she realizes why I am here. But it’s not like she is going to tell my dad and he probably wouldn’t care even if he knew, so usually this is pretty much just me getting an hour of studying in before heading to the diner.

When I welcome freedom today I don’t go to the diner, though. I don’t want to face my grandparents knowing they are keeping something from me that from what I heard seem to involve me. So they join Scott in the group of people I am going to avoid like the plague until… well, I don’t know when. Pulling up to the house, I can’t help the thought that pops into my head; ‘will they even notice I am gone?’

I can’t back down though. I have to finish this little rebellion of mine, now I only need to come up with something that will really piss them off. One thing comes to mind and it actually seems like a good idea, so I make my way to my dad’s office.

My grandparents have always had a strained relationship with alcohol because of my dad’s relationship with alcohol, so they would be absolutely vivid if they found out I had gotten drunk. It is also the first time I will be getting drunk, which considering I am an almost eighteen year old teenager is a pretty impressive achievement.

After grabbing my dad’s bottle of Jack Daniels, I make my way out to the preserve because I am sure as hell not going to sit around at home alone drinking for the first time. Going to the diner and drinking right in front of them wouldn’t be the wisest decision in the world either, considering my grandpa’s short fuse with large amounts of alcohol consumption and my lacking willingness to get screamed at will drunk.

It feels almost meditative walking between the trees drinking small sips of the liquid. It tastes about as bad as I dreaded it would, but I can’t say I care. I understand why teenagers go for beer or wine when they get drunk the first time instead of hard liquor, but this is faster.

By the time I reach the small clearing where Derek and Scott had their little chat, I have got more than a little buzz going and about a third of the liquid is gone. My skin actually feels like it is buzzing just below the surface, but when I touch it I can’t feel it. Then my skin just feels like my normal ugly skin covered in all those moles. I hate my moles.

A quick swig makes the thoughts go away and leave only that nice slightly numb floating feeling. It is nice the numbness. I can see why my dad would like it so much; you forget everything.

 

* * *

 

A bit later the bushes start making noise. It is quite annoying actually, because the sun is setting and the clouds look like big chunks of cotton candy floating around in big red. It’s actually a big concerning the floating, because it doesn’t dissolve. It is supposed to dissolve.

Then Derek steps through the bushes with his eyebrows looking particularly scowly. He looks pretty though. Derek always looks pretty with his stupid muscles, ridiculous cheekbones and outrageous eyes. I like his eyebrows too, even when they are doing the eyebrow dance. It looks funny.

Another swig quiets down the voice that tells me I like Derek more than I am supposed to. I don’t like the voice, because I should get to like the people I like. We all should.

“Derek!”

“Stiles, what are you doing out here?”

I manage to raise the bottle of Jack Daniels because can’t he tell?

“Stiles, you need to go home…”

“No, I don’t want to…”

“Everybody is worried about you.”

I can’t help but laugh. Even the thought that people would worry seems so… _strange_. Why would they do that? I am _fine_ and people only worry when they care and no one cares.

_No one cares._

“You’re funny! You know that? You are really funny.”

“Stiles, when I left the diner your grandparents were talking about calling your dad…”

“Well, I will let you know Mr. Scowly that it is because I have _never_ done anything like this before. I am _the good one_ , but I am _fine_!”

“Stiles…”

“You know… I just wanted to be someone else for a while. That’s why I came out here. To be someone else…”

His eyebrows look different now. His face looks different now… more relaxed, I think. It looks strange, but pretty. He looks really pretty when he isn’t scowling. Then he sits down next to me and he looks even prettier up close. Especially his eyes, his eyes are really pretty.

Then he reaches out towards me and I almost think he wants to hold my hand, only he takes my bottle. He takes Jack. He can’t take Jack! Jack is mine! Derek is a really bad friend.

“Stop pouting, Stiles.”

“You suck as a friend, you know. _You_ _told me_ to take care of myself and that is what I am doing. You can’t be stupid because I am doing what you told me.”

“This wasn’t what I had in mind...”

“Well, that sucks for you because this is _awesome_. I feel awesome.”

“I am sure you feel awesome now, but tomorrow…”

“I am still going to feel awesome; you don’t know me, Derek Hale. You don’t know anything about me really. I don’t really know you either, though. I know you are alone. I think you like being alone, because you don’t really talk to people. I don’t think you like talking to people, because your eyebrows do this thing. They are actually really… _expressive_ your eyebrows, dude. You can pretty much have a conversation with them, dude. Not even saying a word, just doing the eyebrow dance.”

“You are rambling, Stiles.”

Am I rambling? I probably am. I am almost always rambling, at least, according to Scott. He never really listens when I ramble, but most people don’t. I don’t really think anybody does actually. Maybe Ms. Davis, but she isn’t around anymore. I really miss her.

“You really need to go home.”

“I really don’t.”

“You have all these people worrying about you…”

“They don’t worry… they would have to _care_ to worry. They don’t notice me really. They never really have and I hate it. That’s why I did this… to get them to notice me, but they don’t really. Do you think they ever will? Notice me?”

His eyes look weird; sad. He doesn’t have to be sad, he probably have people who care about him, so why should he be sad? Oh, maybe he doesn’t… his family all died… maybe he doesn’t have anyone either?

“ _You_ _need to go home, Stiles_.”

“There won’t be anybody home…”

Then he actually takes my hand. He looks really uncomfortable doing it, but it is strange thinking that a stranger who barely knows me is doing more for me than all those people who say the love me. He is going out of his way for me and it feels really nice.

“But I will go home for you. I don’t care about everybody else though.”

“You don’t have to…”

Standing up, turns out to be harder than sitting down. My legs don’t really work right, so Derek has to help me. It hits me when we stand here looking at each other that he had to be looking for me. Derek Hale had been looking for me.

Then somehow I bypass everything and he next thing I know I am kissing Derek Hale. I just walk over to him and kiss him and he doesn’t move a muscle.

It doesn’t last long, but it feels nice. Then I look at him; his nice eyes and soft hands, before walking off. I don’t remember how he looked after, but right now I don’t care. Right now a strange part of me is happy, even if I don’t understand as I stumble off home.

I know why I did all those things today. I know it has been more about getting some sort of reaction out of people, but none of them really noticed, at least, not enough. So all I have left are these small acts of rebellion. A few memories from the day Stiles Stilinski didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

Waking up next morning, I can’t say I feel good, but I don’t feel horrible either. So the hangover isn’t really bad enough for me to stay in bed all day. I am behind on everything I planned on doing and I still have to find out why someone is forcing the skinwalkers to turn and what they want with them. Are the Hale Murders connected to what is happened now and if they are how?

Everything seems so confusing and unmanageable, it is hard figuring out how all the loose ends fits together so I decide to do something I have seen in movies; a crime wall.

I start taking down all the posters from one of my walls, before taking drawing a timeline on it. Then I fill in all the things I know; when the pet disappearances started, when the symbols showed up, when I know Scott was having blackouts, when Ms. Davis disappeared and when the attack happened. Then I make small notes on post-its about what I know about the symbols and why Scott has been having blackouts. Next to it, I start a mind map of my knowledge about skinwalkers.

Only, when I am done I feel like I have even more questions than when I started. If Scott and Derek are skinwalkers then who else is? What is making the skinwalkers turn before maturation? Who is attacking people? Is it skinwalkers or something else trying to blame the skinwalkers? Why did Ms. Davis disappear and who is the person who was attacked? Everything feels like a sea of questions left for me to drown in; overwhelming and scary.

Then in the middle of my strange mind melt the doorbell rings and I figure it’s my dad who has forgotten his key. It isn’t, though. Nobody is out there and I want to scream at whoever is playing stupid pranks on me a Saturday morning.

Right before I start yelling, I trip over the book someone has left on our doorstep. It is a rather big book and it has a note attached to it.

 

_Stiles, this might be helpful_

_With your research_

 

Whoever brought the book left another piece of paper between the pages and when I read the page it was left by, I realize it is about the Native American symbols. Opposed to the other books on the subject I have managed to scrounge up, this actually contains information about the symbols that have been showing up.

Before I have finished the first page my mouth starts going dry and my hands start shaking, because if this book is right, then it has answers to several of my questions, only I am not sure I like those answers.

According to the book, the first symbols are what are forcing the skinwalkers to turn against their will, but that isn’t the horrible part. The later symbols, the ones I haven’t seen anywhere else, they are meant to give someone control over them.

Someone is using the symbols to control the skinwalkers.

 

* * *

 

Before I realize what I am going I am out of the door and on my way to the diner. I really don’t want to see or talk to Derek right now, because things are bound to awkward after I decided to kiss him while drunk out of my mind, but he needs to know this and I need to tell someone.

Only, when I get there Derek isn’t anywhere to be seen. Instead, my grandpa looks ready to give me the lecture of a lifetime and my hungover self really can’t handle that right now.

I turn around right into stern looking man around my father’s age with pale looking eyes. Something about him makes me uneasy, especially the way he looks at my book. It isn’t the one from my doorstep, but another of my books about skinwalkers and I should have left it at home, but I wanted to tell Derek so bad I forget I was holding it.

“I am sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“It is fine, I was just leaving…”

“My name is Chris Argent. Are you sure you should wander around on your own with everything that has been going on?”

Oh, god I want to punch the guy for making me sound like an incompetent twelve year old and what does he know about what has been going on? I haven’t seen him before in my life!

“I am sure I will be fine. We look out for each other around here.”

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you. I am Stiles Stilinski; the Sheriff’s son.”

“You really should be careful; there are things out there you can’t even imagine…”

“Oh, my imagination works just fine. I am a teenage boy after all.”

“Still, you never really know people anymore…”

This guy really makes my blood boil. Somehow he thinks he should subtly be trying to warn me off skinwalkers, because they might kill him. Right now, I get the feeling that Chris Argent is a much bigger threat to my life than either Derek or Scott ever will be.

Why would he risk talking to a stranger about it anyway? He probably isn’t supposed to talk to a stranger, let alone a teenager, about skinwalkers clearly hinting that they are real. This guy’s attitude really pisses me off; how can he think he has any right to decide what I should believe?

“You know, I have never really liked history. Well, I like the concept of history, but I don’t like the books, do you know why?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I have always resented the people who write the history books, it always feels like they are trying to manipulate me into believing whatever they do, but I have always liked to make up my own mind without people trying to do it for me. Do you understand?”

“I think I do Mr. Stilinski.”

“Good, I have a good day, Mr. Argent.”

I hold my breath until I am out of the diner and have put a certain amount of distance between me and Chris Argent. Something tells me he didn’t like being told off.

 

* * *

 

On my way home, my dad calls and I wonder what he wants. Did my grandparents call him about me going missing last night? They don’t really know anything except the fact that I vanished for a couple of hours when I usually visit them, so that wouldn’t really warrant a call from my dad.

Did he see notice the liquor bottle missing? If he knows my life is over; he is going to ground me until graduation and I have no doubt in my mind that he is going to use having all of the deputies at his beck and call to make sure I stay inside.

But has he even been home since yesterday afternoon? In the end, the only way to find out is to answer.

“Hi dad, what’s up?”

“Where are you dad?”

“On my way home from the diner, why?”

“The DNA test just came back from the lab; we have a positive identification of the victim…”

“Why do you sound so freaked out?”

“Stiles, it was the Mayor. Someone attacked the Mayor.”


	7. Finding Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am updating early this week, because I hope I will get another chapter in this weekend, since I might not be able to post anything next week. Physiology is kicking my ass and I really need to focus on that, so I am sorry for having to postponed posting :(
> 
> Hopefully, you like this though :) Anybody have any theories about who is behind everything or what is happening to Stiles?
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments and let me know what you think  
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings   
> Stay safe

A sense of panic sets in. The Mayor was attacked? But who would attack the mayor? _Why_ would someone attack the mayor? What was he even doing in the preserve? I have never seen him go near that place in all the years I have known him and so why would he suddenly start going now?

“How is he doing?”

“The doctors are positive about his chances, but he is going to have so many scars…”

“Do you have any idea what he was doing in the preserve?”

“I don’t know, he was supposed to be out of town for a meeting, which is why no one has notified us that he has been missing. The man isn’t married, so I am trying to contact his family.”

“He isn’t from Beacon Hills?”

“No, he is one of the few people in this town who weren’t born here.”

Something about this doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t add up with everything else I have found out so far. Does he have something to do with the skinwalkers or did he know something he wasn’t supposed to? What is even happening in this damn town, everything is going to hell!

“Do you know if he was working on anything that could warrant him being in the preserve?”

“The only project I am aware of I don’t know much about. He has been working on something with Dr. Alan Deaton.”

“The veterinarian?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that is about, but he told me he wanted to talk me about it after the meeting at school, but he never got back to him about it.”

“I guess you found out why.”

Why would the Mayor have a project with _the local veterinarian_ he wanted to discuss with the _Sheriff_? Could it have something thing to do with what’s going on? But what does the Mayor and the vet have to do with it?

“Promise me, you will stay inside and lock the door when you get home okay?”

“I promise, nothing is going to happen to me, dad.”

“Just be careful, okay? See you later.”

“See you.”

While hanging up on my dad I can’t help but wonder if I have spent too much time being pissed off at the world for lying to me. Resenting everybody for keeping secret doesn’t change the fact that they did. I just don’t know what else I can do.

 

* * *

 

Whenever I walk home from the diner, I have to walk through some of the outer parts of the preserve. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, but after everything that happened, the darkness and the noises make me jumpy. I have the distinct feeling that someone is following me, but who the hell would do that? I am just a seventeen year old teenager who according to most people in town think isn’t exactly smart or anything impressive.

At first, it kind of bugged me that people thought of me like that, but it also means they don’t see me as a threat and honestly, whenever Lydia goes on and on about killing whoever is standing between her and the spot as valedictorian I am really happy she doesn’t think I have more brain than a than an overexcited puppy. She also thinks I have a crush on her, which I actually did in third grade, but it passed years ago, but it keeps Scott from trying to set me up with every other girl he knows.

The next thing I know a black hooded figure is standing right in front of me looking far from friendly. A strange instinct tells me I am in trouble and not just your everyday ‘you did something bad’ kind of trouble, but ‘you should be scared for your life’ kind of trouble.

I have no idea how I know this, but every muscle in my body is tensing slightly getting ready to fight. My breathing changes and everything feels like it is slowly down just a millisecond. It is as if I can see him coming when he tries to land the first punch.

Whoever this is moves fast and he knows what he is doing. It feels like my body starts moving on its own dodging blows, but I can’t get away. The annoying little voice in my head keeps telling me I am about to die, because this guy means business. He wants to hurt me and I really wish I had taken the car right about now. I really wish I wasn’t alone right about now, because then this probably wouldn’t be happening.

Then out of nothing my attacker pulls a strange looking knife and I want to cry and scream at him, because why the hell is he doing this to me? This guy actually wants to kill me for knowing something I probably don’t even realize I know.

Right when I have my back against one of the trees and the knife is getting dangerously close to my vital organs, a huge black wolf jumps out of the bushes and pounces my attacker. It takes me a second to realize this is the wolf from a few days earlier when Derek saved my ass. Only, now the wolf is saving me and I have no idea what is going on. If I did know how I managed to get my ass saved by _a wolf_ , I would so use this more often.

So while I sit by the tree in shock, the wolf scares the living daylights out of my attacker, injuring his arm badly before he manages to escape. You would expect the wolf to follow its ‘prey’ or whatever this guy is, because that’s what they do according to the internet, but instead it turns around and looks at me with those eyes.

Then it hits me. This wolf isn’t a wolf; it’s a skinwalker. I haven’t been saved by a wolf, I have been saved by one of the skinwalkers and I have no idea how to react to that.

I really don’t know how to react when the wolf starts to transport into a very _naked_ Derek Hale, who looks just as amazing as I expect. Then while I recover from the shock of seeing a wolf transform into a _grown ass man_ Derek disappears for a few seconds into the bushes before returning slightly more dress and with slightly more dress I mean he is wearing a pair of sweatpants and worn out t-shirt. It really shouldn’t be legal for a man to look this goddamn hot after having transformed into a _freaking wolf_! He could at least have the decency to look a little messy or _something!_

“I really don’t know if I want to yell at you for playing with me that day in the preserve or thank you for saving my ass right now.”

“You don’t seem too freaked out…”

“Oh, I am freaking out! I freaking out _really bad_ right now, but I am doing it on the inside!”

To _know_ that Derek Hale is a skinwalker and to actually _see_ it for myself does make me freak out. It makes me freak _really_ _bad_ , but I don’t know how to actually express this amount of freaking out and I am kind of happy about that, because it means I can’t embarrass myself completely in front of Derek about this thing. I can at least seem a little bit cool.

“What the hell made you go all skinwalker on me anyway?”

Then Derek pulls this face that reminds me more of a three year old who doesn’t want to eat his vegetables than a twenty something man having a conversation. Like, he actually thinks I am not going to annoy the living daylights out of him until he tells me everything I want to know. I am not even kidding, it’s a thing I do.

When he doesn’t start speaking I send him my best attempt at a ‘you better start talking, bitch’ look, which I know look more like I am having constipation than anything else. It seems like it might work, though, because Derek looks like he actually plans on saying something soon.

“I heard you and something told me he couldn’t let you get hurt, even if you looked like you could handle yourself…”

“You think I looked like I could handle myself? I was about to get myself stabbed!”

“Stiles…”

“No, I appreciate you trying to make me feel better…”

“Stiles, you need to tell your dad about this…”

“You want me to tell my dad that I got attacked and then saved by an adorable black fur ball?”

Then it is Derek’s turn to send me a ‘bitch, please’ look that puts even Lydia’s to shame. I think it might be the eyebrows… it’s definitely the eyebrows. I think they might even be able to make Lydia shut up and nothing makes Lydia shut up.

“I got it. No mention of the adorable black fur ball.”

“I am not an adorable black fur ball…”

“I am sorry to break it to you dude, but when you get over the whole sharp deadly teeth thing, you really do turn into an adorable black fur ball.”

That comment doesn’t really make the bitch face go away, but I can’t help smiling anyway. The general sense of scared out of my fucking mind is still there, but Derek makes me feel a little safer, because he might actually be one of the few people I know who can actually keep me safe.

“You do realize that guy attacked me because he thinks I know something about all of this I am not supposed to. If they know anything about you, they could be coming after you next.”

“You did hear me when I told you to tell your dad, right? He is the Sheriff; he is supposed to stop that kind of thing from happening.”

I don’t know what to do with myself. Derek Hale just made a… _joke_! Or, at least, something that could be mistaken for a joke. It might not have been a joke, but it was funny.

“Stiles, I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You need to promise me not to tell anybody about me and Scott being skinwalkers.”

Somehow the mention of Scott makes me flashback to me kissing Derek. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough to remember kissing the hottest human being (is he technically a human being?) while drunk off my face, but having _my best friend_ remind me of it that’s a whole other level of embarrassing. Derek’s slightly freaked out expression doesn’t really help either, because everything about this _stupid situation_ makes me want to run away screaming. God, this is embarrassing!

“I just wanted to… wanted to… say… ehm, sorry? Yeah, I wanted to say I am sorry for, you know… _you know.”_

You really wouldn’t think it possible, but then Derek actuallymanages to look even more frowny, scowly and just generally growly, and I can’t work with this level of embarrassment. I _just can’t._ I need to get out of here _right now_ , so I start running and I don’t look back.

* * *

 

It is safe to say the embarrassment _hasn’t_ gone away when I wake up next morning. It pretty much feels like my entire body is buzzing with it. It is all I can think about and I can’t work with that. I really can’t, so I have to do _something._

Since I can’t talk to Scott and I don’t feel like facing my grandparents at the diner either, my options for the day are kind of limited, so I end up at the library investigating.

I probably should lay off the whole investigation business for a while considering some attacked me last night because of it, but if I just sit around I am going to go crazy. The question is if I tell my dad about it. I probably should seeing as he is the Sheriff and it’s his job and everything, but I don’t know what he might do if he found out I didn’t come to him right away. How would I even explain to my dad how I got away from the guy? Yeah, dad, you see a huge black wolf came and saved me and then afterwards it turned into Derek, because you know what? Derek is a skinwalker!

Yeah, that’s not going to work, _really_ not going to work. Besides, I promised Derek to keep him out of it. And then my mind is right back on Derek and embarrassment and that damn _kiss_! I just feel like screaming, because what do I do now? I can’t focus on anything besides Derek, but my life might actually be in danger so my mind needs to get its shit together so I can stay the hell alive here. It’s finally hitting me how close I came to dying last night and I can feel the panic attack luring just below the suffer, so I need to do something, anything really.

So I decide to just my fiksation on Derek Hale for something good and look into what happened again. With everything I have found the past few days, I can’t shake the feeling that it is connected to the Hale Murders. Not just because the first two symbols show up in connection to the murders, but because an entire family of skinwalkers were murdered and now someone is forcing skinwalkers to transform before they have reached maturation.

Everything about the media coverage on the case is just _off._ During my first research bender, I remember thinking it seemed like someone had been trying to prevent something from getting out, like they were covering it up. Back then it seemed almost absurd, but now I can’t shake the idea.

This time I find some articles that seem downright manipulative. The first one dated a few days after the murders paint _Derek_ as the obvious suspect, only for the second one dated two days later to be a public apology. I don’t even remember reading about this in my dad’s reports, because all they mention is that Derek had been at school during the time of the murders, which probably happens to be the only reason he is alive today.

But who wrote those articles? The name doesn’t say me anything and a quick goggle search doesn’t bring up anything. This person wrote two articles and the nothing else – why the hell didn’t anybody else question what this idiot was doing? Why didn’t my dad?

“Stiles, I need to talk to you.”

That voice makes my life flash before my life because it belongs to _freaking Derek Hale_. This is _not_ going to end well, it really isn’t. The only thing going through my mind is ‘I am going to die now; I am _actually_ going to die now’.

“Calm down, Stiles, I could probably smell your panic from the parking lot right now.”

“Well, sorry for being freaking _terrified_ of the guy who can turn into a _freaking wolf_ and has a tendency to look at me like he wants to kill.”

It actually surprises Derek and technically I am not really afraid of _him_ but more of the general embarrassment bound to happen from his proximity.

“Please keep you _freaking voice down!_ Just promise me…”

“Promise you what? You haven’t exactly been nice to me, besides I can’t really see what you would want from me. I am just a teenager!”

“I just need you to promise me not to tell anybody about me and Scott, because if you did it could get us into a lot of trouble with the wrong kind of people.”

Where the hell is this coming from? he has to know that I am not stupid enough to go around talking about skinwalkers when my knowledge on the subject might very well be what almost got me kill last night. I don’t actually have a death wish contrary to popular belief.

“I heard you were talking to Chris Argent…”

“Chris Argent was weird as fuck! And I don’t actually go around telling every stranger I meet my secrets, so calm down; I wasn’t stupid enough to tell him anything.”

“There are things you need to understand about my world…”

“Well, if you want me to freaking understand what’s going on you better start talking, because I might be smart but I can’t figure out everything on my own.”

It looks like he is actually considering and then he sits down next to me. I don’t know what is freaking me out more, the fact that Derek Hale is sitting next to me or the fact someone is going to stop keeping secrets. Who thought it was going to be Derek Hale who would start the trend of actually telling Stiles Stilinski the truth.

“My mother used to tell me stories when I was a kid about the hunters, the people who have hunted us for centuries. The Argents are one of the most notorious hunter families in the world and they have started working really close to the line they swore they would never cross…”

“Wait, you are actually saying there are people out there _killing_ skinwalkers for a living?”

“They are supposed to kill the rogues, the ones endangering innocent people, but there have been stories the last few years that they haven’t been sticking to the rules…”

“So you think they might be here to kill you?”

“I don’t know, Chris has always been the most rational in his family…”

“I promise, I won’t say anything…”

Then he sends me this wary smile and it looks good on him. Not that scowling isn’t a good look on him, anything is a good look on him with those eyes and those damn cheekbones, but that smile makes him seem younger. It makes me seem more like the kid in the photo I found before what happened to his family. I wonder what that Derek was like.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“I doubt saying no is going to work with you.”

“Aw, you know me too well. Ms. Morrell mentioned you had a Ph.D. and I was just wondering why you chose Native American folklores, it just seems…”

“Weird? It probably is, but I have a degree in American History focused on Native American History, so considering my family history Native American Folklore seemed like a good choice. As to why, it just made me feel closer to my mother. Her heritage is Native American and she always told us all the old stories when we were kids….”

It feels strangely intimate talking to Derek like this. Up until now the most communication he has done has been through his eyebrows, but hearing him open up makes me heart ache. This is a man who lost his entire family in one day and he actually has the strength to do something that reminds him of them every day.

“Do you have any idea what happened five years ago?”

“I don’t want to talk about it Stiles.”

He looks like a different person when he realizes what I am asking. I can’t exactly blame him for not wanting to talk about the day that probably ruined his life. Honestly, I am surprised he didn’t chew off my head worse than that.

“With everything going on…”

“Stiles, you heard me; I don’t want to talk about it. You can’t possibly understand what it is like to lose your entire family…”

It shouldn’t make me want to bite his head off. It really shouldn’t, because no one can possibly understand the hell he must have gone through, but to say I can’t relate to what it’s like to lose your family, it makes me angry. I know all too well.

“You don’t know this, because you moved away before it happened, but my mom left us a few years ago. She didn’t say goodbye, she just left in the middle of the night. My dad didn’t take it well, he started drinking and no one did anything. He wasn’t my dad anymore and I hated that I had to take care of him, because there was no one to take care of me. He even punched me once when I tried to get him to stop… If my grandparents hadn’t interfered when they did my dad would have been dead by now and I doubt I would have been very far behind. So my family might still be alive, but I am not stupid.”

“Did you ever tell Scott any of this?”

“I haven’t told anyone…”

There have been times where I thought about telling someone, but it wouldn’t change anything. It still happened and whoever I told would have to carry the burden with me. I probably shouldn’t even have told Derek, but it made me so angry that he thought of me as a stupid teenager who doesn’t know anything about the pain life brings along.

“Do you have idea why Scott smells so miserable lately? Every time I come near the guy I feel like I am going to drown in misery and guilt.”

“Let’s just say we had a falling out.”

“Anything that’s going to solved soon?”

“I doubt it. Scott’s keeping things from me and I am not going to put up with it anymore.”

“You do realize I knew you were there that day in the preserve. You really aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.”

“And why would you bring that up?”

“Have you ever considered that Scott is probably scared for the same reason you are?”

“I am not scared…

“I can hear when you are lying, Stiles. You are both terrified the other one won’t accept your flaws and leave you behind. You need each other.”

That is some knowledge I really don’t know what to do with. Deep down, I know he is right about the reason why I haven’t told Scott about my family. I don’t want him to see me as broken or too much trouble to keep around and leave me behind. He is my best friend and I can’t lose him.

I need to talk to him.

 

* * *

 

That’s pretty much why I find myself standing in front of the McCall home about thirty minutes later. It should surprise me when Scott opens the door before I even reach the front door, but seeing as my best friend is a skinwalker I can’t say I am.

“Stiles! I can’t believe you are here…”

“Is your mom home?”

“No, she has the weekend shift…”

When Scott realizes I am not back to being the usual seemingly carefree Stiles, he takes a few steps back and he honestly looks like a kicked puppy. He still hasn’t figured out why I am pissed at him and he probably hasn’t devoted too much brain power to it.

“The day you went to meet Derek… I was there.”

Those words terrify Scott, he looks like he might actually make a run for it and we are standing in the middle of his own living room. He has to know this doesn’t change anything.

“You being a skinwalker don’t change anything about us, but you choosing to keep it a secret from me that makes me furious. I am sick and tired of secrets and if you aren’t ready to accept that memo then we can’t be friends right now because I need to look out for myself for a change.”

Scott does puppy eyes better than anyone else I have ever met and right now he is sporting the worst case of puppy eyes I have ever seen and that is saying something when it comes to him.

“Anything for you, Stiles.”

“You do realize this means you tell me anything.”

“I know; what have you found out?”

“I need to show you something at my place.”

We leave right away with Scott being so nervous he almost forgets to lock the door. It doesn’t take long to get to my room and there I reveal my mind map of everything that has been going on in my mind. After today I need to add a few things, but Scott seems genuinely surprised.

“This is insane, Stiles…”

“I still need to add a few things and if you can help me with some more information concerning your blackouts…”

“No, Stiles, this is genuinely amazing. I can’t believe you did all of this…”

He walks around reading all of my small notes and just taking in the mess that is my mind. I know it probably won’t make as much sense to him as it does to me; then again I don’t think my mind is supposed to be understandable to anybody but me.

Then Scott starts looking through some of my books, until he stumbles upon the book from yesterday. I don’t really understand the surprised and slightly disturbed look on his face after he has looked over the first couple of pages or when he starts flipping through it like he is looking for something. It might not be new, but the book isn’t that hard to navigate.

“I knew you were smart, but how the hell do you read this?”

“Dude, it’s English and I am going to be valedictorian! It’s not that complicated”

“Lydia Martin is going to be valedictorian, everybody knows”

“Not according to school records, she isn’t.”

Scott looks even more confused and I probably should have told him, at least, about the whole valedictorian thing. We both have to start trusting each other if we want to get out of all of this. I have a weird feeling it is going to get worse before getting better.

“But I still don’t understand what the hell you mean, Stiles. This sure as hell isn’t English.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott opens the book on a page and tells me to read the first paragraph, which I do but he looks like he doesn’t understand anything. He actually looks like he might pass out of we don’t sit down, so I pull him over to my bed.

“Stiles, what you just read… it isn’t what I can read… _how are you reading this_?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even… I didn’t know it wasn’t…”

“How did you get this?”

“I don’t know! I found it on my doorstep… maybe Derek…”

“Derek?”

“We talked, he has a Ph.D. in Native American Folklore and I asked him for some books…?”

“How would he know you could read this, because this sure as hell isn’t normal?”

A headache starts pounding as all kinds of thoughts run through my mind creating a deep terror in me. What the hell is going on? Why can I read this book?

_What the hell am I?_


	8. Small Pieces of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the next chapter is up and here you get a few answers and a few new questions thrown your way, so I hope you like it :) What do you guys want to happen next? Any scenes you want me to make happen? 
> 
> Please leave comment and kudos, I love it when you do and I love the feedback  
> Tell me if I need to add any warnings or tags  
> Stay safe <3

My mind feels like it overloading with too many thoughts too quickly and my head honestly feels like it is going to explode. What does this even mean for me? Am I even human? People don’t just know strange languages without realizing they know them. If Scott hadn’t said something I might never have known, but now I do and I can’t go back. I can’t go back to not knowing no matter how much I wish I could.

But what do I even do know? Do I try to solve another mystery on top of everything else or is this connected with what is happening like all the other things seem to be? I can’t even think that thought, so instead I do what I always do; I lock it away far away in my mind next to all those other things threatening to destroy my mind.

Scott doesn’t seem all that invested in my plan to just compartmentalize for now, he looks more like he wants to storm something and demand answers.

“Stiles, we have to talk to someone…”

“The same way we need to talk to someone about the fact that you’re pretty much a werewolf? They are going to lock me up in some mental hospital, Scott!”

“Your dad…”

“…wouldn’t be able to do anything!”

“Then we have to talk to Derek, you said the book might come from him maybe he knows what is going on or he knows someone who might?”

When did Scott go and become all reasonable? It makes too much sense to argue with, because ‘I don’t feel like it’ really isn’t an argument no matter how much other people want it to be. I don’t really want Derek to know I am weird, well, at least not any weirder than I usually am.

“Theoretically, what do we even tell him? We don’t know anything!”

“We have to do something!”

“This is my life, Scott!”

“Well, you are my best friend! I have to do something!”

It feels good to have _him_ fighting for _me_ for once, but it’s strange that he is the one being sensible. I know we have to do something but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

 

* * *

 

How we end up in the preserve is a bit of a blur. I know we walked and Scott tried having some form of conversation with me, but all I could manage was holding the book to my chest like a lifeline while my mind was completely overloaded.

Then as the world comes into focus, I find myself walking through the preserve. Scott is right next to me and I can see Derek up ahead looking more than a little surprised to see us. But he had to be expected somebody so maybe it is just me he is surprised to see.

“Derek, we need to talk.”

Scott voice sounds so sure; so different.

“I am guessing the two of you made up?”

“How did you know Stiles would be able to read the book?”

“What book?”

Derek clearly doesn’t know anything about the damn book and every instinct tells me to run, because he is going to think I am crazy. He is going to think I am _wrong and weird._ It makes my heartbeat skyrocket and my breathing shallow. My own body is working against me, because I know I can’t move; I can’t get away.

“Oh God…”

“Stiles, what is going on…?”

Derek puts a hand on my arm and it calms everything down enough for me to start speaking. I still feel like I would pass out if I even considered moving, though, so I stick to just speaking.

“I found a book… on my doorstep yesterday… like Scott said. It didn’t say who left it but it’s about skinwalkers so I thought you might… but you clearly didn’t…”

“Why is this book so important?”

“Because Stiles is the only one who can read it.”

“We technically don’t know that…”

“I didn’t understand a word in that book, Stiles!”

Derek looks most like he wants to punch Scott in the face for yelling at me, which confuses me. He seems strangely protective of a teenager he barely knows, not that I am going to complain that the skinwalker seems to like me, but it doesn’t make sense to me.

“Can I see the book, Stiles?”

I nod before handing the book over. Derek opens it and starts flipping through it. His face doesn’t reveal anything, which annoys me to no end, because I don’t like it when I can’t read people. It makes me jumpy.

“I am sorry, but I haven’t seen this book before and I can’t read it…”

“But what does that mean for me? _Why can **I** read it?_”

“I don’t know, but what does it even say? You said it was about skinwalkers…”

“It explains how Scott is being forced to transform. The symbols are somehow forcing skinwalkers, who haven’t reached maturation to transform, but that isn’t the worst part… the last few symbols; they are supposed to control the transformed skinwalkers…”

The blood slowly leaves Scott’s face leaving his skin almost chalklike. Derek isn’t doing much better, but I can see him fitting the pieces together until the thought that has been haunting me dawns on him too – who would want us to have that kind of information?

“There is something else I need to tell you, the second symbol I have found it somewhere else. The day in the preserve when I got caught in the tree… it’s somehow burned into the grass…”

Derek looks like he has seen a ghost and I can’t blame him, but Scott looks he wants to throw a tantrum for not knowing what is going on which probably doesn’t help the panic he is experiencing.

“What the hell are you two talking about? What aren’t you telling me?!”

“Scott…”

“No, you tell me right now!”

“If you will shut up long enough for me to actually do that, I will! It was the clearing in the preserve where Derek’s family was murdered I found the symbol…”

“Are you telling me that what is happening to me is connected to a mass murder that happened I don’t know how many years ago?! Who would know you could read that book and know you well enough to know you would figure that out?! This person knows us, Stiles!”

“Don’t you think I know that, Scott?! Don’t you think I am freaking terrified that someone knows more about then I do?!”

“I think I might know someone who can help.”

Derek’s calm voice breaks through my building panic and it seems to calm down Scott a little too. I don’t know what it is about the guy but Derek seems to have one of two effects on me; either he calms me down completely or he turns me into a rambling mess of nerves. Thank God, this time it is the first possibility and not the latter.

 

* * *

 

Instead of taking the roads like any other normal human being, Derek decides that we should walk through the preserve to wherever it is he is taking us. You might wonder why I say wherever, but you see, Derek won’t tell us where he is taking us, which is frustrating me endlessly.

Why the hell can’t he behave like a normal human being and drive us in his damn Camaro and explain where the hell he is taking us? It sure as hell would help on my nerves. Scott doesn’t seem to mind, so I can’t help but wonder if this is some skinwalker thing.

When we finally leave the preserve behind, my feet feel like we have been walking for hours and we are standing right in front of the local veterinarian clinic.

“What the hell are we doing here? I work here!”

“Deaton will explain, please, just get inside.”

What we are doing with the local _veterinarian_ I have to say makes me more confused until I remember what my dad said yesterday when I asked about the mayor. Does Dr. Alan Deaton have something to do with what is happening? Even if he doesn’t, he might be able to tell me what the hell he was working on with the Mayor that might have gotten him attacked.

Inside the familiar clinic Deaton and Ms. Morrell is sitting by the counter _drinking coffee_ , talking like it is the most normal thing in the world for the two of them to be sitting there chatting. What is Ms. Morrell doing here? I didn’t even know they knew each other, I haven’t seen them anywhere near each other… _ever_.

“Ms. Morrell…”

“Mr. Stilinski, it is nice to see you. How is your research project going?”

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks; Ms. Morrell is one of the maybe five people in this town who know I am researching skinwalkers and Native American folklore. If she had any idea what the book was about, she would know I would want to read it. I still don’t understand how the hell she would know I would be able to read it.

“You two know each other?”

“Well, Deaton is my older brother, so I guess you can say we know each other.”

“They are emissaries and Deaton used to help my family.”

Scott actually looks like he knows what Derek is talking about, which doesn’t exactly make me any less frustrated about being kept out of the loop _again._

“Seriously, you people need to stop keeping secrets if you want me to be involved with any of this, I am sick and tired of not knowing what the hell is going on. What the hell do you mean when you say they are _emissaries_?”

“An emissary, Mr. Stilinski, is a person who guides a group of supernatural beings on the matters concerning other supernatural beings, but we aren’t allowed to act directly, so we can interfere. I am the Hale family emissary like Derek said.”

“Supernatural? You mean there are more than skinwalkers out there?”

“That is exactly what I mean Mr. McCall.”

Something about the veterinarian gives me the creeps. Not in the way that I am scared of him, something tells me he won’t do anything to hurt me, but at the same time I get the feeling that he wouldn’t do anything to prevent it either.

“Why did you give Stiles the book then?”

I don’t know if it was supposed to sound as much as an accusation as it did. Derek really doesn’t like this man and he didn’t seem particularly happy when Deaton mentioned being the Hale family emissary in present tense. Something happened between these two, but I am not sure I am ever going to find out what.

“Well, Derek, I only giving Stiles what belongs to him. I was merely storing it for him until he was ready for it.”

“What do you mean the book belongs to me? I have never seen it before in my life.”

“I only know what your mother told me. She gave it to me right before she left and she knew _I_ wouldn’t be able to read it, but you would. All she told me was to give it to you when you needed it; she seemed to think I would know when that was.”

_My mother?_ What does this mean? Could this have something to do with why she left? But why would she leave the book with Deaton without telling me anything about what it means? Does the book mean I am in danger or one of the apparently many supernatural creatures Deaton seem to know about? In the end, all this does is bring up even more questions.

“What does this mean?”

“I don’t know, but it seems you are just as connected to all of this as those two are, Stiles.”

The hand on my shoulder comes as a shock, what is even more surprising is that the hand belongs to Derek. I don’t mind it. The hand grounds me and, honestly, what I could really need right now is a big hug, but I don’t say anything.

After letting it sink in, I remember what I wanted to talk to Deaton about. This might be the best chance I have of getting a straight answer from the man.

“Deaton, I have another question for you?”

“What do you need to know?”

“My dad seemed to think the Mayor wanted to talk to him about something important the day he went missing; something to do with the project the two of you had been working on… I need to know what that project was about.”

“Stiles, you don’t understand what you are getting yourself into…”

“I was freaking attacked last night, Deaton, _I know what I am getting myself into!_ ”

“What?!”

“Scott, it really isn’t as bad as it sounds! Derek saved me…”

“And you didn’t think you should tell me? Stiles, we need to have someone watching you, what if they try to do something again!”

“Derek and I are working on it. Scott, I am fine, nothing happened.”

When I say Derek’s name I pray to God he doesn’t blow my cover, because I can’t have Scott freaking out about someone attacking me. I can’t calm him down while trying to put all these damn pieces together, because whenever I find two pieces that fit together it seems that the entire puzzles gets two times bigger and I am back to where I started.

It doesn’t help that Deaton seems to know far more than he wants to tell us, even if something tells me that whatever they have been investigating has something to do with my attack, the Hale Murders and the skinwalkers being forced to transform.

“Deaton, you need to tell us if there is anything we _need_ to know. I am pretty sure you don’t want another massacre on your territory.”

“Mr. Stilinski, putting me in a corner isn’t going to help you. Our investigation has nothing to do with whatever you think it does, but you are dealing with dangerous people and you need to start acting accordingly. You can’t be wandering around alone.”

“He won’t be.”

The expression on Derek’s face suggests that he took whatever Deaton just said as some sort of personal insult. I am not sure I want to know why Derek feels insulted at the suggestion that I am putting myself in unnecessary danger. I am pretty sure that’s one is on me.

 

* * *

 

After trying to push Deaton for some more information and coming up empty, we decide we need to stop banging out heads against the wall. Well, it is more like Derek makes some growly sounds resembling a goodbye before walking out of there looking like a thunder cloud and Scott and I getting the impression we better follow him.

Scott says he wants to stay and get some more hours in at Deaton’s. He hasn’t been able to work that much lately before of lacrosse and everything with the skinwalker business, so he tells Derek he needs to cancel practice, which has me like what? They actually have skinwalker practice which I know Derek mentioned in the preserve that day, but still, it sounds awesome and it sounds like something I need to see. Besides, I still don’t know what Scott looks like as a fur ball and I definitely need to see that as soon as possible.

It takes me a while to realize most of what I thought I hadn’t really been thinking as much as I had been saying it out loud, which ends with both skinwalkers looking at me with disturbed looks. Then I realize it is getting dark and my jeep is still at the garage, so I have no idea how I am going to get home and I pretty much just promised Deaton I wouldn’t be wandering around alone.

“Derek, where are you going?”

“I thought I would go to the diner… why?”

He looks genuinely confused and maybe even nervous about me asking, which makes me smile. Someone as handsome as him has no business being this adorable.

“Can I catch a ride with you? My jeep is at the garage and it’s getting dark and we just told Deaton I wouldn’t be…”

Then he just starts walking. He doesn’t even answer, he just starts freaking walking! My jaw might actually have hit the floor when he just _freaking left me here!_ Really, I want to scream and stomp and act like a three year old, but I know it won’t help. It will only make me look like a crazy person and sure I might be a little crazy, but I don’t particularly want to remind people all the time.

Around sixty seconds after I have calmed down enough to not want to strangle Derek Hale on sight the black Camaro I would be able to recognize anywhere drives right up to me. The passenger door opens before Derek rolls down the window.

“I thought you wanted a ride?”

And here I thought I couldn’t get any more surprised. I manage not to say it out loud though. I also manage not to scream at him for being the worst communicator in the goddamn universe.

How the hell can this guy even be real? He must have been running faster than humanly possible and then actually _speeding_ to get back here. My dad could have freaking pulled him over and how would he have explained that? I don’t even know how he would have paid for the speeding ticket, even if it seems like he has to have some money if he owns a freaking Camaro.

It hits me that this is the second time in under a week that I am sitting here. He has never actually complained about having to drive me. Scott always does, but I refuse to be responsible for any of that because it isn’t my fault the guy doesn’t have any taste in music whatsoever.

“Thank you for driving me again.”

“You don’t need to thank me. Like I told Deaton you won’t be wandering around alone.”

“Then you better hope my jeep gets fixed soon or you are going to be driving me a lot because you shouldn’t expect help from Scott. We can’t agree on music and no matter what he says I am not responsible for his taste in music. I feel like my ears are going to start bleeding every time he puts on one of those awful remixes he loves to listen to. You might not laugh now, but the guy listens to the worst remixes in the history of remixes and don’t think I haven’t tried introducing him to the good ones. The amount of Avicii, Calvin Harris and David Guetta I have listened to in a desperate attempt to improve the guy’s taste is ridiculous… I have started rambling, haven’t I?”

“I would have stopped you, but you don’t even _breathe_.”

It takes me a few second to realize Derek is teasing me. _Derek Hale is making a **joke**_ **!** I have heard it before, but it still leaves me speechless for about a minute. Derek clearly enjoys it, because he has got this smug expression going on like he just won a Nobel price or something.

“I know I should stop rambling, but I have always had problems with talking. My psychologist always tell me it is because of my ADHD that my mind has problems focusing on one thing so instead of sticking to the main road it goes off on all kinds of small roads and ends up everywhere but where it was supposed to go. Scott thinks it’s the reason why I go on research benders… I am going it again; please just tell me to shut up!”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

The words are familiar, he has told me to shut up more times than I want to remember, but this time it is playful; it is fun. It’s the way you would say it between friends. I never really realized we had become friends, but it probably started the night I decided to embarrass my drunken ass.

The thought of the kiss makes me blush and Derek sitting right next to me with those damn cheekbones and the stubble that makes him look rugged and manly and handsome and… good things. It only makes me blushing worse which makes my nerves come back but for a completely different reason and suddenly, I have no idea what I am supposed to say and that is never good.

“You know, I am sorry about that night in the preserve. I know I shouldn’t be drinking… well, I know that now, but I hadn’t really been drunk before so I didn’t know then. Not that it matters, but, yeah, I am never doing that again. Alcohol clearly makes me do stupid things… not that you are stupid! You are not stupid; you have a Ph.D. so you are probably smarter than most people in this town. Well, probably not Lydia but that’s Lydia. You don’t want to meet her, she freaks me out. I actually used to have a crush on her until I realized I was more scared and in awe of her than actually crazy about her…”

“Shut up, Stiles!”

This time it isn’t fun. It isn’t even like the other times he said it. No, this time he sounds like people do when they want me to go away and never come back and I hate that it hurts.

“I get it; you were drunk off your ass.”

The worst thing is I don’t understand why it hurts so badly. It’s not like I really expected a different reaction, I know my rambling can annoy even the people who love me, but it still hits me in a way that _hurts_. It confuses me, but I know I can’t let Derek know what’s going on in my head. I can’t let it show how much his words hurt me, because I don’t want his pity, I don’t want him to apologize. Honestly, right now, the only thing I want is to get out of the car and forget about it.

“Yeah, who would want me to be crazy about them anyway, right?”

My head almost ends up making contact with the dashboard when Derek pulls over and breaks. At first, the only thought in my mind is ‘what the hell where you thinking’, but then I see the thunder in his eyes, then all I can think about I whether I should start running or not.

“You really don’t like yourself, do you?”

“I feel like no comment…”

“This is not a joke, Stiles. You might not think you are good looking because you don’t look like the big muscular guys with the classic faces, but you are. You would look amazing if you would stop trying to be invisible and you are far smarter than any of the people who tell you otherwise.”

To say I am surprised is the understatement of the century. My mind is still going crazy when Derek just gets out of the car without saying a word, because what the hell just happened. Did Derek Hale actually just tell me I am good looking? Well, he pretty much admitted I wasn’t ugly, so I am definitely taking this one as a positive.

I just don’t know what to do with it. Does this mean Derek likes me or does it mean he sees me as some sort of little brother who needed a peptalk and that was all this was about? I could see the last, but I have to say I would be all for the first one.

At this point, I realize I am actually still sitting in Derek’s car and Derek is not in the car with me, so I might want to get my bud out of it before this turns into the kind of embarrassing situation I don’t want this to turn into. So I make my way to the counter to face my grandpa who looks slightly less murderous that the last time I saw him.

“Do you think I am good looking, grandpa?”

This was definitely not what my grandpa was expecting and I have to say this might be the weirdest look he has ever sent me.

“Of course you are, you don’t need me to tell you that.”

 

* * *

 

In the spirit of our little promise to Deaton about me not going wandering around my own, I decide to wait at the diner for my dad to get off from work. It is late when he does, but I figure I don’t want any pissed off skinwalkers or emissaries on my ass, so I can’t complain.

At home my dad gestures towards the kitchen, which I take as a sign that my dad wants to have some sort of conversation with me. With everything that has been going on, we have almost been talking more the past week than we have seen my mom left combined. It’s strange.

“How are you doing kid?”

“Today, I have been better than I have been for a while. It might just be a good day in the middle of the bad, but I am think I am going to get better now that Scott and I talked things out. We had a fall out a few days ago, but yeah.”

“How is Scott doing? He has a lot on his shoulders.”

“He is doing better; it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I know I haven’t been good enough at asking…”

“We have both had things to work through; don’t beat yourself up over it.”

He looks older than I remember him, but he probably hasn’t been sleeping enough. He has never understood that you actually have to sleep if you want to be able to help the people who need you. If you are sleep deprived, you end up being a far bigger liability than asset even if it means you not working for a few hours. My mother used to physically force him to bed when it got bad, but I don’t think he would accept me doing the same. I don’t really have the same authority.

“Do you know anything about mom’s family? Did you ever meet any of them?”

“I don’t understand kid, why do you want to know about them now?”

“I just realized you never talked about them, even when she was here…”

It looks painful for him when I mention my mother and this might actually be the first time we have talked about anything concerning my mother since she left. Seeing as he isn’t yelling at me to shut up and forget about it, I am taking it as a good sign.

“All she told me about them was that they died in an accident when she was younger, she didn’t want to talk about it with me, but she was good friends with Talia Hale and Alan Deaton, so maybe he could tell you more about them if you want to know.”

“About the Hale Murders, did you look for the person who tried to pin it on Derek Hale? It just doesn’t seem right to me, not with the way it was covered in the media. The whole thing seemed like there was someone pulling strings all over the place…”

“Well, you know how to change the subject, kid. Why do you even want to know more about this? Don’t you think we have enough on our minds as it is?”

“So you haven’t considered that it might be connected? You told me you didn’t think it felt right when the guy confessed to the murders.”

“Stiles, please, don’t get involved in anything. We don’t know who is behind this…”

He looks so tired I can’t get myself to keep arguing with him. Instead, I help him upstairs to his room, because his leg is bothering him again. Before I leave I look at him and I wonder what my life would be like if I actually lost him. His job isn’t the safest and I have always known that he might not make it home, but it hasn’t really seemed real at the same time, because who would hurt my dad. Now, it all feels too real and I realize I don’t want to lose him no matter what I try to tell myself. So I whisper out in the room knowing he probably won’t hear it.

“Please be careful dad, I want you home in one piece when this is over.”


	9. Another Day in My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly late bc I am stressed as hell with UNI right now and I just found out I have to move a month early right before what might be the hardest exam in all of med school, so my life is just great right now.  
> it contains a lot of Sterek and I really hope you like it. The story is going to be focusing more on them actually investigating things, but I have thought about making this into a series because of some of the plans for later in the story, but anyway, here's the ninth chapter.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, I love getting feedback from you guys <3  
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe <3

It’s Monday; my least favorite day of the week. It means yet another week of school; yet another week of listening to Jackson and pretending not to be smarter than the average high school student. It also means having to endure yet another week of Adrian Harris’ torture.

It doesn’t help that Scott seems to be on a mission, a totally ridiculous uncalled for mission that involves him taking Deaton’s warning a little bit too seriously. The guy won’t leave me alone and by that I mean he follows me everywhere and I do mean _everywhere._

After last period, I figure I might have a few minutes of peace if I use the bathroom, but _no_. My dear friend actually follows me _into the bathroom_ and scarily enough, I think he might have followed me into the actual booth if I didn’t put my foot down.

Then after cooling down, I find Scott talking to Allison. As soon as he notices me he breaks off the conversation and is right back on my tail to my frustration. Only my frustration doesn’t distract me from the fact that Scott was talking to Allison Argent; _skinwalker_ _hunter_ _Allison_.

This tells me that Derek might not have come around to tell Scott what the Argents do for a living, which would be killing skinwalkers. Dating someone who kills your species for a living really seems like a genuinely bad idea, but then again Scott isn’t one for logic.

“Scott, this whole following me around thing…”

“Deaton said…”

“I know what Deaton said, but, dude, you followed me into the bathroom… the fucking _bathroom._ This has got to stop!”

Scott actually has the decency to look embarrassed about that. I don’t think embarrassed would even begin to cover how I would feel if I had done anything resembling what he just did.

“What are you doing talking to Allison Argent?”

“It’s nothing… I just didn’t want to seem rude. She doesn’t know a lot of people being new…”

“Right…”

“Derek told me that he wants you to come to practice with me here after school.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“He said something about us having to discuss how to handle the whole… _thing_.”

With Scott relaxing on the whole Stiles stalker thing, it gives me a little room to breathe. It also gives me room to realize that I am going to witness a training; _a_ _freaking_ _skinwalker training._ The inner geek in me, which, okay, might not be all that inner, can’t help but freak out about it, because this is going to be _awesome!_

 

* * *

 

I have to physically restrain myself from doing some sort of embarrassing victory dance while Scott and I make our way towards the small clearing in the preserve. Unsurprisingly, Derek looks slightly impatient when we get close enough to make visual contact.

I can feel Scott tensing up slightly like he is expecting something, but what could happen? It’s not like Derek is just going to jump Scott without warning, because that would just be…

Before I can even finish that thought we have entered the clearing and Derek comes storming straight towards Scott, who goes into a wide stance that makes sure he doesn’t fall on his ass when their bodies slam into each other.

At this point I am smart enough to realize that the talking part of this afternoon isn’t going to happen until later, so I better get the hell out of their way before I end up in the hospital because I accidentally got in the way of two skinwalkers fighting.

After watching them for a while, I realize how fast they actually are; strong too, and they really aren’t holding back on my account. Seeing Derek sending Scott flying straight into one of the trees without Scott batting an eye makes me want to cheer or just do _something_.

The strange urge to cheer doesn’t lessen when Derek decides that his shirt is getting in the way and actually decides to take it off, because holy cow the guy is ripped. Like, I think I might actually be able to do my laundry on those abs. Like how are those even possible?

It doesn’t take me long to realize I am looking more at Derek’s naked upper body than the actual fighting and I am pretty sure I am not doing a good job of hiding it. I might actually be a little obvious, okay, I might be a lot obvious, but why would someone do this to me? It’s freaking torture having to focus around a body like that!

Then suddenly, Scott seems to have had enough, because he sits down and just screams his lungs out startling me since I really wasn’t watching him all that much.

“What the hell is it I am learning getting my ass handed to me repeatedly? Because taking a beating really isn’t something I _want_ to learn, you know.”

“Whoever is doing this might be leaving you alone for now, but who says they won’t come after you like they did Stiles? They are going to expect a fight and do you really want them to win?”

“ARGH!”

Scott punches the ground hard enough to actually leave a small fist-shaped hole. Even with all of the lacrosse training he has put himself through over the years, I have _never_ seen him like this before. He seems almost _broken_ somehow.

“Why don’t you take a run to cool down?”

“Is this a part of training too?”

“Well, avoiding the fight is always better than engaging in it…”

Scott looks about ready to murder Derek, but he actually sets off running deeper into the preserve. Derek then proceeds to use his shirt to wipe of the worst sweat before walking over to me with a small smile on his face, which I don’t understand. What is he smiling at?

It only takes a few seconds for me to realize it’s me he is smiling at. Well, my staring at his unbelievable body is what he is smiling at, but that’s pretty much the same. Getting caught is making me nervous and I can feel a slight blush spreading to my cheeks.

“How has your day been?”

Is this a trick question? Is Derek Hale actually engaging in small talk?

“Is this your awkward way of making small talk?”

“I am not awkward…”

“I am sorry, dude, but you totally are. Your eyebrows do more talking than you do.”

His eyebrows instantly wrinkle together until he realizes what he is doing (practically proving my point) and he tries to stop right away. He doesn’t really succeed, but it makes me smile. It feels like I haven’t really smiled all day.

“My day was fine, Derek, thank you for asking. But you might want to tell Scott about the Argents sometime soon, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, Scott needs to know there are people out there wanting to kill him, because he is sweet and nice and acts like one of those cute puppies, but he doesn’t know when to shut up unless he has been told someone can’t be trusted. This needs to come from you, because me telling him isn’t going to help all that much. He doesn’t really listen.”

“You think he might do something stupid?”

“It’s Scott, so yeah.”

I try to make my last comment sound like a joke, but it really isn’t. It’s the truth, because Scott can’t read people. He can’t always tell when people are just trying to manipulate him into telling them what they want or actually like him, especially when those people happen to be female and very attractive.

 

* * *

 

Not all that long after, Scott returns looking annoyingly not out of breathe. He just ran what has to be full speed for fifteen minutes and he isn’t even breathing hard, how the hell is that fair? I couldn’t even run from the station to the school without feeling like my legs were going to give out.

Derek looks ready to start another round of handing Scott his ass and as much as I would love to see that happen, I really don’t want to postpone the reason I came the in the first place.

“Guys, we need to talk.”

They both look surprised to hear me talk, which considering the fact that I am famous around town for my inability to stay silent is incomprehensible. I actually have to stop myself from rambling about this topic, but I remind myself I need to stay focused.

“We need to start taking this investigation we have got going on more seriously, well, the two of you need to start participating in my investigation, because we need to solve this before anybody else gets hurt.”

“But where do we even start?”

“That is an excellent question, dear Scott, because we have several things we need to focus on if we want to find the sociopaths that are doing this. First of all, we need to find out what the second symbol means. The first symbol we know and the rest of them are connected to the whole controlling business, which means the second symbol has to be connected to whoever is controlling the skinwalkers or it doesn’t make sense…”

“I am really not following here, Stiles.”

“You have to ‘claim’ the spell, Scott. Usually, whoever does the spell or symbols or whatever you want to call it uses their blood, so they are connected to the spell. Only, the tests the Sheriff’s department ran on the weird ink and the blood didn’t contain any human blood, so the symbol itself has to be connected to whoever did it. It’s the only way it makes sense.”

“The ink isn’t weird, it’s magic.”

“Excuse me?”

“The ink has been fused with magic that’s why no one can recognize it from anywhere.”

That strangely enough makes sense, because it’s not like the police has a database of different kinds of magic since the police doesn’t know about magic. At least, I don’t think they know about magic, because if they do they have a lot of explaining to do.

“Right, back to what we were talking about. One of the other things I think we need to investigate is what really happened with the Hale Murders. Whatever is happening now has to be connected and I think some of the answers we need are among all the blanks in that case.”

“I don’t really know much, the entire force made sure I didn’t come in a five mile radius of the crime scene during the entire investigation, so when I did any evidence they might have missed…”

“…was long gone.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, there is still one person who saw the crime scene before anybody had the chance to manipulate anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The hiker, who found the crime scene, he was there before anybody else. He might have seen something or heard something the police didn’t think was important…”

“But might actually be important. Do you know where he is?”

I can feel myself pulling a face, because this is where things are going to get difficult. I don’t really know all that much about it because most of my research has been focused on the symbols and the skinwalker business, so I might have slacked a bit with the rest of it.

“I don’t really know yet. It’s one of the things I need to find out; I will check the articles and see if I can find his name anywhere. Another thing about the Hale Murders is the media coverage of the whole ordeal; most of the articles written seem odd as if someone has been supervising what gets out and what doesn’t. There were a couple of articles that seemed more realistic, but they were written under a pseudonym and the writer knew more about the case than the police told the media…”

“Slow down a bit, you are telling me someone was controlling what the media wrote, but this one guy wrote articles that didn’t match up, but no one tried to investigate it?”

“I don’t even know how many people know about those articles, it wasn’t published in any papers just put up on a webpage. What it comes down to is that we need to find out who those people are; the freelance reporter and whoever tried to manipulate the press.”

“What do you want us to do?”

Derek looks like he actually wants to hear what I have to say. He actually looks a bit surprised about something; probably everything I just told them seeing as whenever I am around him I usually put my foot in my mouth. Scott looks like he wants to cry and I can’t blame him, if I didn’t throw myself into my research I would probably do the same.

“You can’t really do all that much right now. I guess you should get back to training, because we are probably going to need that for when we solve this thing.”

“You sound sure that we are.”

“We have to.”

 

* * *

 

During the second half of practice, Scott actually manages to throw Derek around once but mostly it consists of Derek letting Scott know just how much he needs to work on this if he doesn’t want to get killed in a fight against someone who actually wants him dead.

It reminds me of Allison, because if she ever actually comes after him, I don’t know if he would be able to actually hurt her. She would be able to kill him before he even knew what happened because he trusts her for some reason.

“Scott, I need to talk to you about something. I probably should have told you earlier, but I didn’t think we would need to worry about it so soon.”

“Just tell me, Derek. I need to get home and make dinner for me and my mom.”

“For as long as there has been skinwalkers there have been people who hunt us. They say they only hunt those who hurt the innocent, but some of them think we are all evil incarnated and just want to kill as many skinwalkers as possible. The reason I am telling you is because a family of hunters are in town and they have a history of belonging to the latter category.”

“You are saying there are people in town that want to kill me?”

“Yes, they might be connected to what happened to my family and what is happening now too.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They have a habit of showing up whenever things turn to shit. One of them, Kate, tried to convince me to date her, but I made it pretty clear I wasn’t interested. My uncle Peter on the other hand seemed more inclined to have a relationship with her.”

“Your uncle dated a hunter?”

My disbelief must have been obvious in my voice, because Derek gets this especially grim look on his face. I want to punch myself the second I see the expression, because he never talks about anything even remotely connected to his family and the first time he does I make him feel worse.

“Yes and that might be what got my entire family killed.”

“Who are they anyway?”

“They are an old line of hunters from France, the Argents…”

“No! No, Allison wouldn’t be involved with any of this…”

“Scott, her entire family is hunters…”

“I don’t believe it; Allison isn’t like that.”

“And how would you know her well enough to stay that? This morning you told me you only talked to her because you felt bad about her being the new kid.”

During our friendship Scott has done plenty of things to be embarrassed about, but the expression on his face right now is the most embarrassed I have ever seen him.

“We have been seeing each other…”

“Excuse me?”

“I have been dating Allison since she got into town…”

“You straight up lied to me, dude! I am your best friend and freaking lied to me!”

“Scott, you have to break things off with her…”

“No! I can’t do that… I love her!”

“Do you have some sort of death wish? You have known her for less than a week and you tell me you’re already in love with her and won’t break things off with her despite the fact that we pretty much just told you her entire family is out to kill you?”

“You don’t understand!”

I have to restrain myself from punching him the face, because how stupid are you allowed to be? The thing that makes my stomach hurt and my eyes water is that he lied to me and it’s not even a lie by omission, no, he straight up lied to my face even after he promised he wouldn’t anymore.

“Scott and Stiles, we need to stop keeping secrets from each other if we want to survive this, because there is someone out there controlling Scott and they have tried to hurt Stiles…”

“You know what? I am done with this, _stop trying to control my life!_ _I didn’t want this!_ I didn’t want be a freaking skinwalker or get my ass kicked because some psychopath thinks it builds character ** _. I am done with this!”_**

Then he runs off and I am left behind like always. I am always the one left behind; the one no one seems to care enough about to actually stick around for, but what does that say about me? What does it say about me that my own _mother_ left me and my best friend won’t stick around either?

Only, this time I have got Derek standing right beside me and he senses that I really need someone right now. His arm around my shoulders is the only thing keeping me grounded and it hits me that he has stuck up for me more this last week than Scott has in years.

“Do you know why we became friends back in pre-school? Scott always tells it like he _had to be_ friends with the scrawny awkward kid everybody else avoided like the plague, because we were meant to be brothers. Honestly, I think it’s more because he knew I would do whatever he told me to because he was the only one who wanted to talk to me and I _really wanted a friend…”_

“Stiles…”

“You know, I remember thinking when the cats started disappearing if anybody would notice if I did? Back then I thought maybe my grandparents and Scott would, but now I don’t know…”

“They would notice, Stiles. Your grandparents love you; they won’t stop talking about how proud they are of you. You dad does too even if he doesn’t show it well.”

“If you say so…”

“Besides the cat only disappeared because they don’t like magic from the symbols.”

I can’t help the small laugh I left out. Derek Hale actually made me laugh, I still can’t get used to the fact that the man seems to have a sense of humor and a decent one. He might actually be a better friend than Scott ever was.

“Did you really not know who was handing you out in the media? I know it was a pseudonym and they haven’t written any other articles in the state of California…”

“How do you know they haven’t written any more articles in California?”

“Well, you see, dear Derek, there is something called writing style. I just referenced key writing style elements against articles written in California and found no matches.”

“Was that an awkward attempt at a Sherlock Holmes reference?”

“Aw, using my own lines against me, how sweet!”

Then it’s his turn to laugh and it makes my heart flutter. By now I probably need to face the fact that I like Derek as more than someone who might the most physically attractive person I will ever meet in my entire life. I like Derek because he might tell me to shut up, but he never lets me down.

“Do you want a ride back to town?”

“Sure, thanks Derek.”

 

* * *

 

When we get back to the diner there is people standing out on the street. The place is never this packed unless something is going down and with everything happening it can’t be anything good. My dad’s car is even parked out front, which doesn’t hold any good promises either. He never shows up here during the day unless it’s _bad_.

“This can’t be good. Are you coming inside?”

“You think it might be connected to what’s happening?”

“It’s Beacon Hills; everything seems to be connected these days.”

Derek squeezes my shoulder before me make our way inside, where people don’t even register we are there because they are too busy gossiping about something involving the mayor. Only, it doesn’t make all that much sense, because they are talking about him like he isn’t in the hospital recovering from massive injury in a coma.

Then my dad comes over looking at Derek like he wants him as far away as possible. I don’t really understand what it is my dad has against Derek, since he has been nothing but a good guy to me. He even saved my ass a couple of times, even if one of those times was against himself. I actually still haven’t yelled at him nearly enough for scaring me up in that tree in the preserve.

“I didn’t know the two of you were such good friends?”

“Just leave Derek alone, dad. He is a good guy. What’s going on here anyway?”

Then my dad looks like he wants to crawl into a deep black hole and never come back, but he isn’t scared, no really, more frustrated really.

“The town council held a meeting today, where the mayor because of his current condition was declared unfit to uphold his mayoral duties. So the council decided to have the vote for temporary mayor and Gerard Argent announced his candidacy?”

“Gerard Argent is back in town?”

“I keep forgetting you knew the Argents, Derek. Yes, he came back into town with his son and his family; they used to live in town, well, them and Gerard’s daughter Kate.”

“What happened with the vote?”

“Gerard won with a single vote and honestly everything about the meeting seemed off. Everybody who voted for him seemed terrified of him.”

Something in my dad’s voice when he says the last part makes it clear he doesn’t think it’s a coincidence. He really doesn’t seem to like the man either.

“You don’t seem too fond of him?”

“The man is a manipulative sociopath… you promise me to stay as far away from the man as possible, do you hear me, Stiles?”

“Why do you…?”

“Just promise me to stay away from him. It doesn’t matter why, just stay away from him. I better get back to work, but I will see you later.”

Everything about this whole Gerard thing doesn’t sit right with me and why won’t my dad tell my dad me anything? He is an Argent, which from Derek’s story doesn’t really speak positive about the guy, but what does Gerard even gain from becoming the mayor?

Too lost in my thoughts about Gerard Argent and my dad, I don’t even realize Derek is leading me towards the counter where my grandpa is standing looking very unhappy with me. My grandma really doesn’t look all that happier, but she is always a little weird whenever I don’t visit every day.

“Now look who decided to honor us with a visit today.”

“I know, I know. I suck for disappearing on you the last couple of days...”

“But it’s really my fault for keeping Stiles busy, Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski. He has been helping me with a research project, Stiles has quite the mind for it and he has been great company.”

My jaw might be hitting the floor right now, because Derek Hale just freaking lied for me to keep my grandparents of my back and I didn’t even ask him to do it. My grandparents actually seem happy about it too, my grandma actually sends me this really weird look that reminds me of whenever she talks about how cute those people on TV look together.

“You two seem good together, but remember to take care of each other. I know how Stiles gets when he gets too focused on something; he forgets everything around him.”

“Thank you, grandma for that one.”

“Now Stiles, don’t be embarrassed!”

God, I have to stop her and it has to be _now_ before she starts on childhood stories and there are some things I prefer Derek doesn’t know about.

“What do you two think about your new temporary mayor?”

From the look on Derek’s face he knows exactly what I am doing and his eyebrows pretty much scream ‘nice subject change that wasn’t obvious at all’. Only, it distracts my grandparents from embarrassing stories so mission accomplished, but they do seem angrier than expected.

“That _man_ should never have been allowed back into this town. You two stay away from him and his family. They aren’t good people.”

And then the conversation seems to be over, because both of them get back to work. I look over at Derek who looks mildly surprised by their outburst too. He seems to agree with them though, but considering that he thinks they might have murdered his entire family it isn’t all that surprising.

“Well, if my grandma starts inviting you to family dinners, please just let her down easy. She doesn’t understand the concept of people just being friends.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that, Stiles. You are great guy, you are smarter than any of the people in this town and sure, there is a learning curve with the rambling, but anybody would be lucky to be invited to family dinners.”

What the hell just happened? What does he even mean by that? Does Derek _want_ to be invited to family dinners or is he just taking in a broad sense of people my age? He didn’t really seen that bothered by the fact that I am gay, not that the obvious staring at his godlike chest isn’t a hint.

But does this mean Derek likes me?


	10. Mission Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this chapter early, because I am hoping to get another post up this weekend :)  
> I hope you like it, because we get some more information the guys need, but please tell me what you think or if there is something you think is odd.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, I love hearing from you guys, so please leave more <3  
> I love to hear what you guys think  
> Please tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe <3

As much as I don’t like Mondays, I really don’t like Tuesdays any better right now. My best friend has decided to stop speaking to me, because he just found out his girlfriend’s family wants his entire kind dead and I was the one to tell him.

Well, technically I wasn't the one to tell him, Derek was, but I was there and Scott can’t really tell the difference right now. He doesn’t really listen to the whole don’t-shot-the-messenger thing, not that he would listen to me long enough to actually hear it.

I am supposed to be his best friend and he still doesn’t listen to me. It’s killing me to see him put himself in danger because of a girl he doesn’t know, when we have known each other for the most of our lives and I still don’t matter enough for him to listen to me.

Suddenly, my ass makes contact with the linoleum floors because I didn’t pay attention while walking around the corner. The embarrassment going through my body doesn’t help when I realize the person I walked in to (who is still standing) is Allison Argent.

She is smiling that stupid trust-me-smile that makes me want to punch her in the face, because she is a hunter. She has been trained to kill someone just for being a skinwalker and I hate it. I hate the fact that her kind thinks they can kill someone just for being different.

“You’re Stiles, right? Scott’s friend?”

“Sure, I am… I am friends with Derek Hale too. I think your family knew his back in the day.”

I have no idea why I am talking about this, but I want to see her reaction. I want to see if there is even the slightest doubt in her eyes when I bring up the people her family wants to brutally murder. It might be stupid and slightly dangerous considering I don’t know how the Argents feel about sympathizers, but I have never been able to shut up.

“Derek Hale? I don’t know anybody…”

“Your grandfather and aunt do; they only moved away right after the entire Hale family was brutally murdered five years ago.”

“They never mentioned…”

“Right, people probably don’t like to mention when they have witnessed something as awful as an entire family being murdered… people actually think the murder might be connected to what’s happening now. It’s funny how they come back right when everything goes to hell.”

Allison looks like she has no idea what the hell is happening. She might not know anything, but I still want her as far away from Scott has possible, because her family sure as hell won’t let him live long enough to protest if they ever found out what he is.

“I know my granddad has been worried…”

“Yeah, I bet he has been worried. I really need to get to class, but I want you to know something. Scott might suck as a best friend, but he _is_ my best friend and you don’t get to break his heart or any other parts of his body if I have to say about it.”

Then I walk away and I don’t look back. I don’t want to see her ragingly innocent looking face, because I can’t afford to feel bad for her. I need to keep my friends alive.

 

* * *

 

People are slowly making their way into Chemistry and Scott is already sitting at our usual workstation, but I don’t want to talk to him right now. Only, Scott still has the decency to look angry when I don’t take the seat next to his, which pisses me off endlessly, because _he_ isn’t talking to _me_ and he still expects me to do all the work? Not a chance in hell!

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?”

“You are the one who isn't talking to me! Did you expect me fall on my ass apologizing?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know? Well, if you don’t know you might want to reconsider some of your choices, especially the one where you don’t want to end a relationship that gives you an unhealthy risk of ending up dead in a ditch someone. The _freaking family kills your kind for a living!”_

The last part I whisper in an attempt to keep it from the rest of the class. Harris has even made his way here, standing by the blackboard and I know I have to end this, because if I give him any kind of excuse he is going to crucify my ass.

Scott doesn’t really seem to agree with my plan, though.

“You can’t order me to do this! I love her, Stiles!”

“For a smart person, you are acting like one of the stupidest right now.”

It doesn’t really register what I am saying until the words are out and I can’t take them back. It’s not that I don’t mean them – I do – but Harris looks ready to kill.

“I can’t believe you would say that!”

“You can’t believe what? That I would speak my mind? The only reason you can’t believe that is because you don’t listen to me! You never do!”

By the end of it, I am yelling at him and Harris smirks in a way that just screams danger. Then he walks over to us looming right between the two workstations until he faces me.

“Well, Mr. Stilinski, it seems you have a lot of things you wish to share, so why don’t you share them with the rest of the students in detention this afternoon.”

“It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice now.”

“Well observed Stilinski, if you could only apply that to your chemistry homework.”

Then he just walks away. He doesn’t even _look_ at Scott, which infuriates me. No matter what Harris thinks of me, this is just unfair beyond reason. Scott was just as much involved with that discussion as I was, so why the hell doesn’t the man give him detention?!

My mind starts going into overdrive trying to imagine the most creative ways of causing Harris pain (some of them involving Scott too), so I don’t even register him handing out our work. Only when Lydia raises her hand looking ready to explode, do I come back to reality.

“Mr. Harris, I think you have made a mistake…”

As soon as she has said those words, I know this is _not_ going to end well for her.

“And why would you think I would make any kind of mistake, Ms. Martin?”

“The grade you have given me on my assignment…”

“…is perfectly reasonable considering the work you handed in.”

“But…”

“No, Ms. Martin; out of the two of us, I am the teacher and I do _not_ tolerate anybody talking back to me, so you can join Mr. Stilinski in detention this afternoon. _Do not test me on this!_ ”

 

* * *

 

When we finally make it to detention, I am actually happy I get to escape from Scott’s judging eyes and all the drama outside the library. Some of the peace does get crushed the moment Lydia decides it’s a good idea to sit next me, taking up most of the table with all of her books.

Me, well, I have just brought the strange book about skinwalkers. Seeing as no one but me can understand anything in it, I figured it would be a good bet for public research without anybody figuring out what I am researching.

It doesn’t mean I am any more comfortable around Lydia than usual, because the girl still scares the living shit out of me. She is a popular and confident certified genius who can silence anybody with nothing but a glance.

Right when I am picturing that glance, she looks up and sends it in my general direction, which makes me realize I am staring and I shouldn’t be.

“I know you have a crush on me, but please stop drooling…”

“I don’t like you…”

“ _Please_ …”

“I am _gay_!”

That makes her stare even more and that is _not good_ for my nerves.

“You know, the sexuality where you like men and I am sorry but you don’t really fit in that category…”

“Please stop talking…”

It hits me that this is the first time I have outright told anybody I am gay. It’s not that it bothers me, I have always known and it’s not like it’s a choice, but I don’t want it to define me. It’s not like straight people’s sexuality defines theirs, so why should mine define me?

Then before my mind has wrapped itself around my outburst, Lydia grabs my book from underneath my hands and starts flipping through it. She doesn’t look pleased; she actually just looks more and more frustrated like I have to be careful she doesn’t start throwing it through the window.

“How the hell do you read this? This is old and I do mean _old._ It has to predate Latin and maybe Hebraic, because I have _never_ seen anything like this…”

“I have always had a flair for languages and this is a family book…”

“Are you telling me you learned how to read this as a child?”

“I am not stupid, Lydia. I have a GPA above 4.0…”

Right when I mention my GPA I want to bang my head into the table, because you _do not_ mention that to Lydia Martin. Thank God, I didn’t tell her I am the one standing between her being valedictorian, I am pretty sure that would have been the end of me.

“You know, Stiles, you should come to my birthday party Friday. You might actually be worthy of my time. Who would have known?”

A week ago I would have been psyched. I would be jumping around from joy, but right now, I can’t believe how little I actually care that I was invited to the party of the year.

Things change I guess.

 

* * *

 

When we finally make it out of detention, I feel like punching something because the book holds absolutely on information about the second symbol, but there is _a lot_ of freaking information and when I say freaking I mean _freaking._ Like the kind of information that is the basis for nightmares; serious grown-up nightmares about grown-up things.

This leaves me with no option but to follow up on one of our other leads. Seeing as the hiker actually saw the crime scene, he has to be our biggest lead right now, because none of us can say the same. So I start reading through the articles again only to find one disturbing fact; none of them actually mentions his name. It starts a panicky feeling in my gut until I remember the police would have the information in the case file seeing as he is a witness in a murder investigation.

My computer takes forever to start up, but when I finally get it up and running I find that I can’t get access to the police serves. Then the panicky feeling in my gut starts taking over, because what the hell is going on? The only person who would have any clue that I have access is my dad and I don’t have the faintest idea why he would suddenly block my access…

Then it hits me right between the eyes. The only thing that has changed lately is the man who yesterday became our temporary mayor, a man my dad clearly didn’t like. Is Gerard watching us looking for a reason to fire my dad? His teenage son having access to the database would definitely be a quick fix to that problem.

So what do you do when you can’t get access to something you want access to? You talk to the people who have access to it aka my dad.

“Hi dad, do you have five minutes to talk?”

“Stiles? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong. I just need you to help me with something.”

“Does this involve something illegal?”

“It isn’t really illegal as much as a grey area… you know father and son discussing things and a name coming up, no malignant intension whatsoever.”

“Stiles, I can’t…”

“Dad, I just need to know the name of the hiker who found the Hale family five years ago. I think he might be the key to this whole…”

“I don’t care if he is the key to everlasting energy, Stiles. You need to stay the hell away from this case; someone is in a coma!”

“But dad…!”

“No! We are not having this discussing. I will see you when I get home.”

Then he hangs up on me and I want to throw my phone across the room the way they do in movies, but seeing as I don’t have the money to magically make a new phone appear I refrain from doing any kind of throwing.

So I am left with one lead, which happens to be our mystery freelance reporter. It isn’t hard to find the articles again, but whoever he is he is not making it easy to find him. It is like he is a ghost or something, even when I try to find the IP-address that posted the article it turns out it was some public one in an internet café a town over.

It is not that I expected this to be easy, but I didn’t expect it to be this hard either. I hope at least one of the leads who bring _something_ , but none of it has brought me anywhere.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes after my conversation with my dad, I get a text from Derek saying we need to meet up and my first thought is ‘how the hell did he get this number?’ before I collect everything I need from my research pile and make my way out of the door.

When I finally make it to the small clearing, Derek is sitting under one of the trees looking out into what seems like nothing. I don’t have any doubt that he knows I am coming, because I haven’t exactly tried to be quiet walking through the small piece of preserve.

“Scott is going to be here in a few minutes, I send him running to cool down.”

“I will be civil, but I don’t want to talk to him as long as he is dating her…”

“Have you found something new?”

“The book is dead end, the only information I have been able to come up with is in no way related to the case and bordering on nightmarishly freakish. If even half of the shit is real then this world is a hell of a lot freakier than I ever thought possible.”

Then Scott bursts through the bushes and I can see the sudden defensiveness I feel in Scott’s face. Derek looks like he wants to bash our heads together to knock some sort of sense into us and I don’t blame him, he probably thinks we are acting like a bunch of kids but I am sick of being walked over like I don’t matter by my best friends.

“We need to discuss what we are going to do next.”

“I thought Stiles had it under control, don’t you?”

I can’t get myself to answer, because he actually has the nerve to act like what happened in chemistry didn’t happen. He didn’t even stand up for me when Harris threw me in detention after a fight he was just as much involved in as me. But I guess I am just not worth it.

“So are you just going to stop talking to me now? That’s very mature of you, Stiles.”

“You have replaced me anyway, so why does it matter to you?”

Then I turn my back to him and face Derek, because I can’t look at him.

“I haven’t been able to find the name of hiker. I tried looking through all of the articles, but the name wasn’t mentioned once and my dad has blocked my access to the police files…”

“You had access to those? Dude, that’s illegal!”

“…so we need to find a way to get access to them or we won’t be able to learn the name. We need to find him, because he has to be the key to all of this.”

“What about the freelance reporter?”

“I tried looking up the IP-address the articles was published from, but it got me nothing. For all I can see the man is pretty much a ghost, so unless some of the other things give us some leads here, I doubt we’re going to be able to find the guy.”

Then out of nowhere Scott decides to grab my shoulders a lot harder than necessary and forcibly turn me around to face him. He is looking furious, not angry, but _furious._

“Are you really going to keep this up?”

I decide to let my silence be my answer, which only seems to add to his fury. Scott starts backing away like he doesn’t know if he wants to punch me or cry.

“I might as well leave then, because I am clearly not wanted here anyway.”

It only takes him short of two seconds to disappear back into the bushes. Derek doesn’t exactly look all that impressed with either of us, but I am not going to yield this time. I am not.

“Don’t look at me like that. I am going to start acting mature when Scott stops being an asshat because of a girl whose family wants to kill him.”

The sign he lets out sounds strange now. He has done it plenty of times before in my presence but it has been a couple of days since I have heard it and I kind of liked it that way. I don’t like the feeling that I am disappointing Derek, but I don’t really think he is disappointed. It looks more like he is sick of dealing with teenager drama.

“You talked about that book of yours…I really want help you more, but you are kind of the only person we know who can read it… that came out wrong…”

“I know what you mean, Derek. Besides I doubt you would want to read it, like I said, it’s some freaky shit. Apparently almost every freaking animal can be someone’s spirit animal… someone can actually turn into birds, Derek, _birds!_ I don’t even know what someone would do if they suddenly turned into a bird… and mermaids seem to be real too, only they aren’t really as nice as Disney wants them to seem. Vampires don’t really seem to understand the concept of Twilight either; Stephanie Meyer _really_ got that one wrong...”

“Stiles, you really need to remember to breathe _._ ”

Derek’s hand on my shoulder calms me down. It lets me breathe, but for some reason it makes me remember how left this book for me. It makes me remember how this book ended up by my front door a few days ago and I don’t know what to do with those thoughts.

“My mom knew about this, Derek. Apparently, she left so I didn’t have to find out about any of it, but now that has gone to hell… do you think I am ever going to see her again?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. On one side I want to just scream at her and tell her how much she has screwed up my life, because I hate her for that. But on the other hand, I just want her to hold me, because she is my _mom_ and I am going to love her no matter how much I hate her too.”

“I can’t give you an answer, Stiles. I know if you think I am going to say something magic and you will just know what to do, but that’s not going to happen. She’s your mom… I am not going to mess with that no matter how much you might want me to.”

Even if he thinks he is saying all the wrong things, I still can’t help but feel that it is exactly what I need to hear. I don’t know how he does it, but he calms something inside of me, even when I am rambling like a crazy person I don’t feel on edge the way I usually do.

“Again, I don’t really think it is right that you are doing all the work.”

“Derek, you have more than enough to do making sure Scott doesn’t go all crazy mindless skinwalker on people… I don’t want to give them any reason to hurt him.”

“Do you know what you are going to do about the police file?”

“I think I might actually have an idea, but it’s not going to be easy…”

 

* * *

 

When I walk into the police station I kind of feel like Ethan Hunt in Mission Impossible. No one really seems surprised to see me, but with a lunch box between my hands and a dad who’s the Sheriff, it has to look obvious why I am there. Only it’s not the reason why I am here.

Ms. Morris has been my dad’s secretary since he became Sheriff forever ago and she has worked at the station even longer than so she knows everybody.

“Hallo Stiles, are you bringing your dad lunch?”

“Yeah, I figured he deserved some real food instead of all fast food he has been eating.”

“Your mother used to say the same thing whenever she would come around after your parents moved here.”

“You knew my mom?”

“Sure, I did. She would bring all kinds of delicious things for this hard working lot, whenever your dad had one of those impossible cases no one else seemed to be able to solve. He always said she helped him, but I don’t know…”

Questions are going through my mind, confusing my already strained mind. His mom used to help his dad solve impossible cases? Could those cases have anything to do with the supernatural? Is this not the first time Beacon Hills have been the scene for supernatural crimes? Does my dad know anything about it or did my mom keep it from him?

Then I finally manage to get myself into my dad’s office where he is sitting by his computer looking like he wants to throw it through a window and just scream his lungs out.

“Hi dad, I thought you might need some decent lunch, do you have twenty minutes so we can it together or do you just want me to leave it?”

He looks surprised to see and seeing as this is the first time ever I have brought him lunch I can’t blame him. He doesn’t look suspicious though, which is the most important thing right now.

“Stay, I have a break coming up. It’s really nice of you to do this, thank you, Stiles.”

The guilt sets in when he thanks me, because I really wish I thought to bring my dad lunch when it didn’t involve ulterior motives. Our relationship is strained, but it still makes me feel like a shit son for doing this when he is so stressed.

I try to act surprised when his phone rings around the time I have unpacked the lunch on his desk. My guilt doesn’t lessen when he looks guilty, because we both know that he has to leave when they call him like this. Only, I knew they were going to call, because the disturbance he is about to be called out to is something Derek and Scott set up. Well, technically I set it up and told Derek and Scott what to do so it is my dad and not one of his deputies being called out.

“I am so sorry, kid…”

“Just answer it, dad. It’s you job, I understand. I will stay until you’re back and we will eat.”

As soon as my dad is out of the door, I hurry over on the other side of the desk to my dad’s computer, which is locked. Fortunately, I have more than enough experience hacking into different kinds of computers, so a minute later I am in.

It takes me a couple of minutes to figure out my dad’s system and then I am searching for the case files, which isn’t easy considering the case is closed and I don’t have the exact date. After five minutes I decide to start entering names instead of dates, because it isn’t bringing me anywhere.

At this point, almost ten minutes have passed and I know I need to get my ass in gear or else my dad’s going to come back before I have anything on the hiker. So I try entering Talia Hale’s name into the search engine and the murder files are the first thing up.

Then the searching starts and I look through the initial report where the name is I have been looking for. My first thought when I find his current residence is ‘I can’t believe this’, because I honestly can’t.

My surprise doesn’t have time to settle, because I can hear him talking to Ms. Morris out front and I have still to erase everything I have just done, so my dad doesn’t see someone has been looking through those Hale Murder case files, because I doubt he would have any problem figuring out who has been snooping.

I only manage to lock the computer and throw myself in my chair before the door opens and my dad comes in. You would expect him to look suspicious, you know the way they always do in movies, when the main character has been snooping around, but he just looks happy to see him.

“Was it bad?”

“Nah, nothing major, but I am starving.”

 

* * *

 

After twenty minutes of casually making conversation with my dad with raging paranoia going on, I exit the police station. My heart rate slows down and my breathing doesn’t feel as shallow anymore, so when I enter the clearing the only sign of my adventure is the sweat I can feel on my skin from my nerves.

Both Scott and Derek look relieved when they see me coming through the trees. Derek looks like he wants to hug me or something just to make sure I am actually here and everything went fine. I don’t really know what they thought would happen, it’s not like my dad was going to kill me for looking into police files. I might be grounded forever but nothing beside that.

“How did it go?”

“I got the information we needed.”

“Are you going to share it?”

“His name is Robert Daniels and he actually isn’t that far away from here.”

“You have an address?”

“Yes, he is hospitalized at the minute?”

“He is sick?”

“I guess you can say that. Two years ago he was admitted to the mental hospital two towns over. He had a psychotic break”


	11. Different Kinds of Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New post! Second in three days, yeah! I won't be able to post until next weekend, but I hope you like this one. There is some more mystery going on here and a lot of Sterek.  
> I have just found out there will probably be sixteen chapters in this, unless I decide to split one the chapters I have planned. But I have decided to make this a series, so there will be another story coming up when I am finished with this one. I am not sure when I will have time to start on the second story, because I have exams coming up in exactly a months. 
> 
> Thanks to Mulder200 for catching the mistakes I missed, it's appreciated <3
> 
> I love that you are posting comments and leaving kudos, please keep it up and tell me what you think! I love getting feedback from you guys and if you have anything you want to happen in the next story, please write a comment and I will see if I can't put it in.  
> Please tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe <3

The next morning, Scott has left several messages that pretty much consist of him rambling worse than me about how he can’t miss school because of lacrosse which means he can’t go with us today. It all makes me wish I could say I didn’t care, but I do. He is my best friend and it never going to feel great to be fourth or fifth choice.

So it is just going to be me and Derek on what might be the smallest road trip ever to a place no one should ever take a road trip to, because we are going to take a day trip to visit a mental hospital. Only, it’s not just any mental hospital, it’s the mental hospital a few towns over where Robert Daniels are currently staying.

We discussed it for hours last night, because would we even get any information out of a guy who has had a psychotic break? In the end, I argued that we wouldn’t learn any less by going either and Derek ended up agreeing with me and Scott disagreeing with me on principle.

Before my dad wakes up I am out of the door and sitting in Derek’s Camaro on our way out of Beacon Hills. Neither of us a morning person, so we stay quiet for a large part of the drive, only the last few minutes do I bother speaking up.

“We should probably start planning how we are going to do this.”

“Twenty minutes…”

“Twenty minutes what?”

“You stayed quiet for twenty minutes; I think it might be some sort of record for you.”

“You should just be happy that I feel comfortable enough around to _be_ quiet.”

The small smile on Derek’s face makes me oddly proud, because he doesn’t _really_ smile. But when he does it makes me stomach flutter and my breathe hitch, because he is absolutely stunning.

“You know, I haven’t really felt comfortable around people after what happened to my family, but… you have grown on me.”

It might not sound like much, but coming from Derek it means everything.

He feels comfortable around me.

 

* * *

 

The old mental hospital looks more like one of those huge mansions you see in old films, where the heroine lives hidden away, only, not quite as romantic. It is actually slightly creepy, because there is no _life._ It just seems so dead here, no people or animals walking around, just _quiet._

“Please, promise me, you will make sure I never end up in a place like this.”

Derek doesn’t answer my whisper; he just puts a hand on my back and guides me towards the entrance. He is clearly as uncomfortable here as I am, but he apparently chose the strong and silent approach on this one.

Inside, the place doesn’t look all that more cheery. It looks a bit modern than on the outside, but the nurses still dress like in those moves from the fifties and sixties and there is still no patients in sight whatsoever. But then again, I don’t really know what I expected from a mental hospital in the middle of nowhere California.

“Hallo, my name is Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale; we are here to see Robert Daniels. We were told he would be a patient here.”

“Are the two of you related to Mr. Daniels?”

“No, we not related to him…”

“Then I am afraid I can’t let you in to see him. Mr. Daniels’ has specifically requested that none family members won’t be able to visit.”

After everything we went through to find out his name and address, I didn’t expect this to happen. I didn’t consider the fact that they would let two strangers into see a patient, which in retrospect it does sound a bit crazy to assume that we would just be welcomed with opened arms, but still, I didn’t expect this.

“Are you sure there isn’t any way we can be allowed to talk to Mr. Daniels for a few minutes?”

“I am sorry, but when the patients specifically request it, we can’t do anything.”

“Maybe if you could ask him if he would talk to us, mention our names?”

“I could try, but I doubt it’s going to help. Mr. Daniels isn’t well, Mr. Hale.”

“Please try.”

Even if I didn’t know Derek, I would be jumping through hoops too trying to please him. It does help us that the nurse seems to have a gigantic crush on my handsome companion, not that I can blame her since I am in the complete same boat.

When the nurse returns she has this strange expression on her face, but she hands us two visitors passes and tells us Mr. Daniels agreed to see us when she mentioned Derek’s name. I am guessing Derek thought he might want to talk to him considering Robert Daniels found his entire family brutally murdered, but I am not sure he actually expected it to happen.

But now we are walking down the creepy white hallways hearing the occasional scream, which startles me just as much every time it happens. I start picturing what the man might look like, because what does a psychotic break look like?

When the nurse stops us in front of a locked room with the name Robert Daniel printed on the door, my heartbeat picks up slightly. I try to look calm, even though I know Derek probably senses my nerves better than I do with those damn senses of his.

My hypothesis is confirmed when Derek takes my hand and squeezes it slightly as she locks up the door and lets us in.

The walls are painted white, the furniture is white and all the clothes are white too. The small white dressed figure is clutching onto himself as if his life depends on it and I realize this man isn’t going to look crazy; he is going to look scared.

“Mr. Daniels, your guests are…”

Before she has any chance of finishing her sentence, Robert Daniels has started screaming his lungs out rocking back and forward throwing things in our general direction. What is really scary about this scenario is that the nurse doesn’t even look the slightest bit surprised; it is like she expected this to happen.

She walks over to him and grabs his arms hard to prevent him from throwing things before looking him straight in the eyes. Robert Daniels looks like a scared child and it makes my heart bleed, because this man clearly doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Mr. Daniels, Derek _Hale_ and Stiles _Stilinski_ are here to see you, please, calm down.”

The second he hears Derek’s last name he calms down and he looks over in our direction. It is almost as if he recognizes Derek, but it’s been five years. Derek must have changed. The nurse lets go before making her way in our direction.

“Now, I will be right outside and don’t be scared to ask for help. We are trained to handle Mr. Daniels in even the most extreme conditions; it’s our job.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure, Mr. Stilinski, ask away.”

“Is he always like this? This scared, I mean.”

“Some days, he is calmer, but something broke inside him when he had the psychotic break. It was just from one day to the next a couple of years ago, but I guess seeing the kind of death he has can fuck with your head.”

Then we make our way towards Robert’s bed still keeping descent buffer between us. Derek looks genuinely upset that the man is doing as bad as he is, but maybe he is just seeing what could have happened to him if he had been the one to find them.

“Robert, my name is Stiles Stilinski and this is Derek Hale; we are here to talk to you about what happened five years ago. We have some questions you might have the answers to.”

“I don’t know anything… I don’t know anything … I don’t know anything…”

“Mr. Daniels, the family you found that day, it was _my_ family. I need to ask you these questions even if you don’t have the answers, is that okay with you?”

The way he nods his head makes me think of a kid. He seems so absurdly innocent despite everything I know about him, but I just want to hold him and tell him everything is going to turn out alright in the even if I don’t know if that’s true.

“The police report says that you smelled something burning and that’s how you found them…”

“Nothing was burning… _nothing was burning!”_

“We know; the crime technicians never found out what you smelled…”

“Nothing… nothing…”

“There was this strange pattern in the grass…”

Instantly, I grab a piece of paper and a pen and start drawing while Derek keeps speaking.

“Do you remember it?”

I hand Derek the piece of paper, so he can show it to Robert who just keeps muttering nothing over and over again, but his eyes radiates fear, so he definitely connects it to something he is terrified of, maybe the people behind everything?

Then I put a hand on Derek’s shoulder as if to tell him we aren’t getting anywhere with this, so we need to change our tactics. I step in front of Derek and kneel in front of Robert in a pathetic attempt to seem less frightening to a man who is terrified of everything.

“Robert, I know that day scares you, it’s okay, it scares everybody, but… even the smallest thing you remember, it might not even be important…

“The pretty purple flowers…”

“What purple flowers, Robert?”

“The pretty purple flowers covering the dead… the dead burned without fire…No! NO! I can’t say anything… I _can’t_! I CAN’T!”

“That’s alright, Robert, but why can’t you say anything?”

“They are trying to kill me…”

Derek and I instantly look at each other and know that whatever this man knows, it’s definitely connected to solving the case. Whoever is behind this would be concerned enough about a mentally unstable man if he didn’t know something.

“Who is trying to kill you Robert?”

“I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you… they will know _I told you_ …”

“We’ll promise…”

“No, they will know, they always know… I don’t have any more time, they will find me… _they will find me_! THEY WILL FIND ME AND KILL ME! KILL ME! _”_

He starts trashing around and Derek and I hurry back to get out of the way of the flying objects coming in our direction. The nurse hurries in again and we make our way towards the door, because it is obvious we aren’t going to get any more out of Robert Daniels today.

Only, I don’t really know what we learned today either…

 

* * *

 

Out in the car, I can feel myself deflating completely. My mind can really comprehend what it just witnessed, because Robert Daniels is a broken man and it terrifies me that seeing that kind of death can do that to you, because does that mean it could happen to me?

“I am sorry for dragging you out here.”

“Why would you be sorry?

“We didn’t really learn anything.”

“Stiles, I know what kind of flower he was talking about.”

“What are you talking about?”

Derek has to focus on the road so we don’t get run over, but then he starts talking.

“The purple flowers he was talking about, they are Wolf’s bane. I think you might know it as aconitum; some types are poisonous to humans, but they are _deadly_ to skinwalkers, especially the wolves have a bad reaction to it.”

“But why would he say the dead were burning without fire?”

“If it comes in contact with our skin it burns it like acid and Hunters use it for bullets, because if we get it in our system and don’t get help quickly we burn up from the inside.”

“So you are saying the burning thing was the Wolf’s bane coming in contact with your family’s skin? How would anybody even get Wolf’s bane if it is poisonous?”

“It grows in the preserve, but whoever killed my family must have known they were skinwalkers because they had to have to wolf’s bane on them when they attacked them…”

“Why would they bring it? They _didn’t die from poisoning?_ ”

“No, but we have better healing than you do, so as long as our heart keeps beating we can heal from stab wounds, but the wolf’s bane prevents that, so they used it to make sure they stayed dead.”

“They must have really wanted them dead to go through that kind of trouble…”

As soon as the words are out I want to bang my head into the dashboard and if we were driving in my jeep I might have actually done that, but you don’t do that to a Camaro.

“I am so sorry that was completely insensitive…”

“Don’t worry Stiles, I know what you meant.”

“Now that we are in the awkward questions business, I am just going to get this out of my system and ask; did you really not have any suspicion about who it was that tried to pin the murders on you, because it would make sense if it was the Hunters to blame it on the last living member of the family.”

“I suspected Gerard and Kate Argent might have been behind it, but I couldn’t prove anything so I couldn’t really do anything about it. It’s not like I can just walk up to the Sheriff and explain everything the whole ordeal with skinwalkers to him and actually expect him to believe me.”

“Tell me about it, I don’t know how to tell my dad about this.”

Derek looks like I just grew two heads when I mention telling my dad and I know we aren’t really supposed to tell people, but how the hell do we explain of this? Honestly, there are so many types of crazy and I don’t really have an urge to belong to any of the types that end up in a mental hospital, especially not after what I have seen today.

“Don’t look at me like that! Whoever is doing this has to be stopped, but we can’t go out and kill them, we aren’t murderers, Derek. So it’s not like we have a lot of options and getting them locked up in jail would be the easiest way and that involved explain something to my dad.”

“I am going to do whatever it takes to keep the people I care about safe.”

Derek doesn’t bother explaining further and I don’t ask any more questions. Even then I get the feeling that with people Derek might actually mean _me_ and the thought that Derek would kill for me does things to me I am not really sure what to do with.

It’s not that I _want_ him to kill for me, but it’s a nice thought that he would do anything to protect me if it came down to, mostly, because I would do the same.

 

* * *

 

After the initial conversation we stay quiet for a couple minutes. None of us are in a particular hurry to get back to town, so Derek drives far below the speed limit, which isn’t exactly typical Derek. From what I have seen of his driving he seems more inclined to drive above the limit than below it, but I am not going to complain. I don’t feel like explaining to my dad’s deputies why I am not currently at school and instead in the car with a twenty-three year old.

“Do you have any good memories of your parents growing up?”

My surprise that Derek is asking questions must be obvious because he actually smiles that adorable smile at me like he laughing (nicely) internally.

“You don’t have to answer, I just wondered…”

“No, I don’t mind I was just surprised… usually, it’s me asking questions and you look at me like I need to learn to shut up.”

“Which you totally do.”

“Shut up! I always wanted to say that to you.”

We both laugh a little while I go through my memories in my head. I don’t normally think about the time I spent with my parents growing up. Usually, it make me want angry and upset because my mom leaving screwed it all up, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have any good memories either.

“I remember one summer growing up. My dad had gotten it into his head that we need to go camping because that was what families did. Only, none of us had ever been camping before so when we actually got out into the woods it turned out we had forgotten half the thing we needed so _everything_ went wrong. But it’s one of my favorite memories of my parents, because we _laughed_ and we _talked…_ we actually felt like a family during those hours in the middle of the woods.”

“Did you ever have any more camping trips?”

“No…”

“Why? It sounded like you had fun.”

“It was right before my mom left… right before everything went to hell.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t know if he should be sorry for asking or not, but I try to smile and let him know he shouldn’t be. I probably need to talk about it more considering I haven’t talked about it at all since my mom left us all those years ago.

“What kind of things do you remember about your family?”

“We were a big family; my mother, father and us three kids. I was the middle child, Cora was the youngest and Laura the oldest. My uncle Peter lived with us too together with his wife. They were going to have a baby when it happened… but it was nice living together all of us, even if I wanted to strangle someone most of the time. Especially, Cora, she used to play pranks on all of us. My mother hated it, mostly, because she was her favorite victim since my mother couldn’t really stay angry at Cora for young because she was the youngest. My dad loved it though, I think half of her pranks came from him, but he would never admit because him my mother would have been pissed with and she held a grudge better than no one.

“What about Laura? You don’t really talk about her and I know she was the only other survivor from your family, so you two got to be close.”

“We used to be; she died… it was one of the reasons why I came back to Beacon Hills, because I thought I might be able to find some answers.”

“I know it won’t make it better, but I am sorry. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

“Me too.”

 

* * *

 

It’s around noon when we hit Beacon Hills’ borders and we decide to hit the diner for some lunch before figuring out where our new information leads os. Despite the heavy topics on the way home we are actually both relaxed when we step out of the car.

Derek’s relaxed posture only lasts about five seconds until he sees a man in his sixties walking towards us. Something about him puts even me on edge, but I can’t explain why – I can only wonder who the hell this man is.

“Well, Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, I didn’t expect to see you here in the middle of the day.”

“Gerard…”

Derek only just manages to get the name out and I realize the man in front of me is Gerard Argent, the temporary Mayor everybody seems to hate so much. From the look of him, I can’t really blame him because I doubt he has done much good in his life.

“It has been so long Derek… when was even the last time we met?”

“Five years ago…”

“Right, what a terrible thing that happened to your family; such a large group of people whipped out. It takes a certain kind of person to do that.”

With anybody else, those words would have actually sounded apologetic, but with Gerard it makes you want to punch him in the face because he is pretty much saying he knows exactly what happened to the Hales and he doesn’t really mind all that much. Seeing that he might actually be _that kind of person_ I guess it’s not that surprising.

“I heard you ran into my son, Chris, Stiles. He said you were a willful young man…”

“Yeah, people call me stubborn, but I think it is more loyalty than anything else.”

“Right, loyalty is an admirable quality as long as it isn’t placed in the wrong kind of people.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Argent, I am good at reading people. I know when people are manipulating me for their own gain.”

“Well, I am sure you are a smart kid.”

Those words are as close to sarcasm as anything can get without being straight out sarcastic. Gerard clearly doesn’t think I smart. He most likely thinks I am an annoying stupid kid who doesn’t know what is good for him. Well, we will have to agree to disagree on that one.

“I am glad you seem alright, Derek. I always wondered what that kind of loss does to a person. Losing your entire family like that, it has to screw up a person…”

Derek tenses up more and more as Gerard keep speaking and by the end of it I have to use all my strength to hold him back from ripping Gerard a new one. I can’t say I haven’t considered it, but I recognize what Gerard is doing.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Argent. We better get going.”

Then I maneuver Derek towards the ally to the back entrance, because I need Derek out of sight and away from Gerard right now. His eyes have started getting this weird glow and his nails are sharper than usual, so I am guessing he doesn’t have a lot of control left.

When we are out of sight and punch him lightly, this results in my hand in pain and Derek scowling at me like before.

“Dude, you can’t give him leverage, because that psycho is just waiting for a reason to get rid of you too and you can’t give it to him. You _can’t_.”

“I _know_ , but he just pushes all my buttons…”

Derek pulls at his hair and tries to hold back the volume as he screams his lungs out. I don’t know if I would even have the control he has faced with my family’s murder, because he pretty much just admitted that he think the Hales being murdered was the best thing since the shotgun.

I step towards him and force my arms around him very aware than I am dealing with a person with more strength than usual people, which means he can beat the shit out of me twice as fast. I actually manage to hug him for something resembling two seconds before he pushes me away.

“What the fuck, dude! I was just trying to be nice!”

“I don’t need nice! I am not good for you!”

“What the hell are you going on about now?”

“Gerard is right, Stiles. I am not good for you; I have got so many issues… I am fucked up!”

Then, I don’t know if I want to punch the guy for being a presumptuous douchbag or hug him for thinking those things. In the end, I decide on a middle thing.

“Derek, I need you to listen to me right now, _actually listen to me_. We’ve all got freaking issues. My mother _left me_ , my dad is an _alcoholic_ and apparently I am _not entirely human_ , so do you really think you are the only one here with baggage the size of Mount Everest? Wake up, Derek!”

“Stiles, you don’t understand. I am twenty-three and…”

“No, you don’t get to do this to yourself!”

Seeing him like this makes me want to just hold him and tell him he is not nearly as screwed up as he thinks he is and all those things holding me back, just doesn’t seem as important in this moment. They seem stupid to be honest, so I say to hell with it.

The next second, I am moving closer to Derek and then I am kissing him.

I am kissing Derek Hale.

_Again._


	12. Things Get Worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my attempt of making sure it's not just the mystery story's loose ends that gets wrapped up but also the emotional ones Stiles has been dealing with. It is emotional, so if anybody has any kind of issues with it, please tell me if I need to add any kinds of warnings or tags, I want you guys to be safe.  
> There is only four chapters left before I start writing the next story in the series, but it might take a while before I post anything of the next one, because I won't have any internet from April until June. Then my summer vacation begins so I might post more often from then. 
> 
> I am loving the kudos and the comments, your feedback has been amazing, thank you <3 Please keep leaving both comments and kudos and tell me if you have any ideas for the next one. I have a couple, but if there is anything you guys want to read, please let me know.
> 
> Stay safe <3

Well, I can’t really blame this one on alcohol, can I? That is the only thought going through my head when I pull back. It makes my heart speed up and breathing turn shallow while I try to search Derek’s face for clues, because why the hell isn’t he saying anything! He should be saying something because I just freaking kissed him! You are supposed to say _something_!

But Derek just looks at me all funny with big eyes and a strange expression. He doesn’t do anything and all I can think is that I just fucked this up. I just royally screwed up, because we were friends and you don’t go around kissing friends… this is going to screw up everything.

Then the next thing I know Derek’s entire expression changes into something determined. I hadn’t even realized I had started back away, until Derek takes one giant step towards me, grabs my face with both his hands and _kisses me_.

Only it’s not like any of those kisses I planted on him, no this on makes sure I can’t catch my breath, it makes my toes curl in the best possible way and I can feel my body heating up everywhere his is in even the slightest bit of contact with mine. My hands need something to hold on to so my legs don’t give in, because it is so damn _passionate_.

It’s everything I ever dreamed of in a kiss, it’s so different form the others, but those were pretty one sided and I am sure as hell not going to start complaining that Derek has taken some initiative, because it is _Derek Hale_!

Things turn heated when my back hits the alley wall behind us. My legs instinctually wrap around Derek’s hips and he just presses me up against the wall which makes every nerve ending in my body light up. I start feeling a little lightheaded and I know exactly where this is ending for the seventeen year old teenage if we keep this up.

“We can’t do this…”

The words don’t even really register in my brain before Derek is pulling away practically forcing my body as far away as possible and my hazy mind can’t really comprehend the concept of why Derek would stop what we were doing.

“No! No… why? Why! This is good! All good…!”

“We can’t do this, Stiles…”

My mind starts clearing and it comes crashing down on me. Derek doesn’t want me. He probably feels disgusted right now that he actually kissed me, because why would he want to? I am freaking Stiles Stilinski and everybody knows that nobody is actually going to want me.

“Stiles, you are a minor…”

“I turn eighteen in two months…”

“But you are technically still a minor and you dad is the Sheriff. I am not going to do that … I can’t risk getting thrown in jail for statutory rape.”

It feels like a slap in the face. He can’t even admit that he isn’t interested; no he has to throw my freaking age in my face. If he actually cared about the age difference he would have said something at hell of a lot sooner and he sure as hell wouldn’t have kissed me.

Why the hell did he even kiss me if he never wanted anything to do with me? Was it a pity kiss or something? Did he feel sorry for the scrawny kid with the big brown eyes so he decided to show him what a real kiss is supposed to feel like? I feel _pathetic_!

“Don’t you dare throw my age in my face! Don’t you dare! If you actually fucking cared _about my age_ you would have freaking said something when I started dealing with _life threatening situations on a regular basis_! You have barely looked in my freaking direction until you found out I could actually be something other than a liability concerning this whole skinwalker business…”

“I don’t care about you _age_ , I care about _you_ …”

“Well, you clearly care about something other than me or you wouldn’t have brought up my freaking dad! If you care about _me_ , you would have just told me we couldn’t do anything _sexual_ for the next _two months_ until I turn _eighteen_ and statutory rape isn’t a freaking legal issue _!”_

“I know I am handling this badly…”

“No you don’t get to do this. I would have been fine with it if you didn’t want to do this, but at least have the decency to tell the truth… Okay, maybe I wouldn't have been _fine_ withit, but I would have accepted it. Instead you decide to freaking kiss me back and _pretend_ …”

“I didn’t pretend, Stiles, please listen…”

“No, I am not going to listen to you. I can’t even look at you right now…”

The tears have started making their appearance, so I decide to get the hell away from Derek Hale, because I am sure as hell not going to let him see me crying over his pathetic ass.

 

* * *

 

Most days it doesn’t matter. Most days, I can’t forget about those _horrible_ _thoughts_ inside my mind. But some days running doesn’t help and it feels like my world is ending. It feels like everything about me is hypersensitive and just need to…make it _stop_.

The only way I know how to make it stop is the water. The darkness makes it go away for a while, long enough for me to make it through the day and pray that the next will be one of the ones where I can forget.

All the drama of everything has made the thoughts easier to forget, but that only means that when I finally can’t forget, it gets so much harder. That’s why I feel like drowning now. That’s why my heart feels like it’s breaking, because Derek pushes it all to the surface and then just kept pushing me over edge.

Every ounce of my feels too wired, too sensitive to function, like any kind of stimuli is going to make me explode. How do you even handle that? What do you do?

My heart hurts, my eyes are burning and my stomach feels like it is coming up my throat, so I head towards the diner; my safe place. Only when I step inside my world turns hazy, because the entire place is empty save for my dad, my grandparents and my best friend. Scott looks so embarrassed he might actually bolt any minute, but the rest of the look like they are heading to a funeral, but who the hell died?

“What’s going on guys?”

“Stiles, we need to talk about what has been going on lately.”

“Has something happened to the case?”

“No, Stiles, we need to talk about what has been going on with _you_.”

It hits me like a ton of bricks. They are having an intervention, a goddamn intervention! No wonder Scott looks like he wants to run away screaming, because he never should have gotten involved with this intervention in the first place. He knows exactly what has been going on, because he has been in the middle of it since the freaking beginning.

“What do you think has been going on with me?”

“The past week you haven’t been lying to me about your whereabouts. I know you have been telling me you have been at the diner or the library, where you have been neither…”

“You have been watching me?!”

“Stiles, you are my son, I don’t anything to happen to you. Everybody has been nervous after everything that has been happening…”

“That’s no excuse!”

“Well, you better have a good one for lying to me!”

I want to scream, because _now_ he starts caring. They really couldn’t have chosen a worse time for this, because I have had enough. I have enough of being quiet and pretending everything is fine, because things haven’t been fine in a really long time.

“I am surprised you suddenly care, because you haven’t cared since mom walked out on us. I have had to fend for myself for years _,_ dad, _for years._ You have no right to start acting holy because I don’t tell you where I am every freaking second of the day and you have absolutely no right to have me watched. _I have rights_!”

My dad looks like I punched him in the face, but in my current state of mind I don’t care. I don’t care that I probably just threw the worst possible thing in my dad’s face and what does that say about me? What kind of person does that make me?

The fact that Scott didn’t put an end to this by telling my dad nothing was wrong pisses me off to no end, because he knows I am fine. He knows I have got things under control and can’t involve my dad right now. Or he would if he wasn’t being an ass about dating a freaking _hunter_ who wants to _kill_ him. Well, at least, her family wants to kill him, I am not really sure about her yet.

“Stiles, you have to understand that we are worried about you. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately. You hardly stop by the diner anymore, you fight with Scott all the time and you skipped school yesterday. You have always…”

“Been the good kid? Acting responsibly? Oh, I know grandpa, I have always been the responsible one, the good one but I am sick and tired of it.”

They start looking even more worried, they start walking towards me and I know what comes next. I know they are going to try and touch me; they are going to try and tell me things are going to be alright, that everything I am feeling is just because I am having a hard time right now.

Only, what I am feeling has nothing to do with having a hard time or me being a teenager and more to do with me being me. I am screwed up. I am just too good at hiding it for people to notice.

My dad tries to put a hand on my shoulder, but my body produces some strange spasm to get the hell away from it, because I don’t want to be here. I want to get away, because all of these thoughts are making me face things I can’t afford to face right now. I just _can’t._

“Don’t _touch me_! Don’t touch me…”

“Stiles, please, let us help you…”

“Stop pretending! Stop pretending to care! You haven’t cared for _so_ long…”

“Stiles, don’t say that…”

“Because if you cared you would know how _broken I am_ … how broken I am…”

I know I have reached I point where I can’t turn it off anymore. I have been running from all of these feelings for so long, suppressing them for even longer and now they won’t stay hidden anymore. They just take over everything.

“Dad, you _left_ me. After my _mom_ left you completely checked out. Dad, I was just a kid. I could barely look over the counter in the kitchen and you just… _disappeared_ from my life. You let me fend for myself when _you_ should have been trying to _protect me_ , take care of me… and we don’t talk about it… we never talk about anything, because you might start _drinking_ again, you might disappear into that _hole_ you went into and never really came out of but I am missing my family because of it. I haven’t had a freaking family in forever… and I am a _mess_ because of it.”

He can’t even look at me right now. He can’t even face what he has done to me…

“LOOK AT ME! Just _look at me,_ dad… running away from it doesn’t make it go away…”

I know that better than anyone. I know how fucked out you get when you try to pretend things aren’t happening, because it makes your head go all… weird. It breaks you. These are the people who are supposed to look after me, hold me when things are bad and make sure as little as possible happens to me, but they are the reason for such much of my hurt.

“Grandma and grandpa, you looked out for me for so long… but you are _keeping_ _things_ _from_ _me_. You know something and you are not telling me…”

“Stiles…”

“I HEARD YOU! I heard you talking about like I wasn’t supposed to know. You were speaking Polish like you always do when you don’t want me to understand, but my name is still the same… I know you were talking about me.”

“We didn’t mean anything…”

“I am _almost eighteen years old!_ I am not a child, so don’t you dare threat me like one! I haven’t been a child since my freaking mom left me and you all damn well know it, so don’t pretend you don’t. I can handle just as much shit as you do, because I bet I have handled worse by now!”

“Stiles, we all love you…”

“Don’t, Scott. Don’t you make me start on you, because I don’t even _know_ what _the hell_ you ever did to deserve to be called my best friend…?”

“Stiles, please let us help you!”

“Why would you start helping me now dad? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

They look shocked the bunch of them. Like someone threw a bomb and they are watching the damage unfold and I guess you can say that’s what happened. I just threw an emotional bomb on them they don’t have any clue how to handle, but seeing as I haven’t been handling it all that well either I can’t really say anything, can I?

What does it even say about me that I can keep something like this from them? What does it say about a person that they can be this _emotionally broken_ and none of the most important people in someone’s life notices what is going on? They didn’t even have a _clue_ things are this bad.

No one really knows me. Most people in school don’t even notice me. Not that there is much to notice. I fall over my own legs, I am not exactly pretty to look at and it’s not like they know I am smart. Not that it would help if they knew. I don’t even think my own freaking dad knows about my grades and my grandparents never ask. They probably think I am stupid since Ms. Davis always helps me with my homework. But why would they think otherwise? I am nothing special.

I am nothing.

“How much does a person have to suck for a complete stranger to be more supportive than friends and family?”

 

* * *

 

I don’t wait for an answer. I don’t really wait period. I start running. I don’t look back. I don’t even notice where I am going, because my own question is taking over my mind. ‘How much does a person have to suck for a complete stranger to be more supportive than friends and family?’

It’s true, because no matter what I told Derek earlier, he has been more supportive of me than any of those people in that diner lately. But what does that say about me? Am I that pathetic a person to just be pushed a side like that by the people who is supposed to care?

When my legs start protesting so much they can’t carry me anymore and they give up underneath me, my hands hit the ground hard enough to start bleeding. My knees probably do too, but my muscles hurt too much for me to actually feel it. Everything hurts, but in some way it feels good because how my body hurts just as much as the rest of me.

 

* * *

 

After my mind slows down, after the worst of the physical pain is over I look around and see Deaton’s clinic right in front of me; yet another person, who can’t seem to be honest with me. There seems to be a pattern of people who keep things from me under the pretenses that it is for my own good, but no matter what, it is never going to be for my own good to have people lying to me.

I end up going inside, because Deaton has basic first aid knowledge and my hands are covered in small cuts filled with all kinds of nasty shit. I probably should go to a hospital and get checked out, but they will call my dad and I am really not up for meeting him right now or anytime soon.

The door is unlocked, which seems surprising considering someone is after the mayor and it is most likely connected to something he is working on with Deaton and he isn’t stupid, far from it. He seems like he knew more than he could possibly tell me the last time he met me.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?”

Deaton looks tired, but he doesn’t look like he has stopped working yet. Seeing as he actually has a veterinarian clinic with actually animals in it that demands care, it probably shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, but after hearing he is an emissary it didn’t seem as important in my mind.

“What happened to you, kid? You look like you have been running for your life…”

My throat feels like it is closing up and I realize I have been crying. I can’t manage to get a word out, so instead I show him my hands and he instantly understands where I am going with this.

Deaton disappears for a few minutes, before he comes back and gestures for me to follow him into one of the rooms behind the reception. It probably wouldn’t have looked good if someone would have showed up with an emergency and Deaton was threating a teenager in the middle of his reception. Especially, seeing as the teenager is the Sheriff’s son.

I am not sure how we would explain that one to my dad, but seeing as the truth has been working out so nicely for everybody maybe I will try that. Hopefully, I won’t see him for a couple of days, so I won’t have to explain any of it. I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to do about school tomorrow. Then again, people don’t really notice me anyway, so they probably won’t notice this anyway. I am pretty easy to ignore after all.

Deaton starts cleaning the cuts on my hands with slow movements as if I am scared animal he might startle if he moves too fast.

“Stiles, do you think you could explain what’s wrong? I would like to know why I am cleaning cuts on the Sheriff’s son’s hands.”

He tries lightening the mood and it would have worked probably any other day with me. But my mind is numb right now. Everything feels numb with all the hurt bubbling just below the surface.

“You don’t care what is wrong. You just want to pretend you are a good person like the rest of them, but no one cares. No one cares anymore. So you’re going to tell me the truth, because I have had it with people lying to me.”

“Stiles, I am not sure what you are talking about.”

“You are supposed to be the emissary. You are supposed to protect the people who live in Beacon Hills but from where I am standing you have been doing a piss poor job of it.”

“So what do you propose I do? Beside tell the truth, of course.”

“You need to step up and take responsibility, because people need you. _We need you_.”

Right when I say those words I can feel all those nice barriers I had managed to build up during the last ten minutes break right down for the second time tonight. The tears start running down my face again and I want to break anything in reach.

Deaton must have sensed my change in mentality because he has moved way out of the damage zone before I manage to get my hand on the nearest item while screaming my lungs raw. Only, destroying things doesn’t really make me feel as good as I expected. It makes me feel worse, so it only ends up being an evil circle I have no idea how to break.

In my haze, I register Deaton calling someone, but I never expected to see Derek walking through the door five minutes later. The sight of him does nothing for my mental state; it only makes me hate myself even more, because it reminds me of everything that happened earlier. It reminds me that I actually thought that Derek might like me. It reminds me that he only feels sorry for me, he doesn’t want me and it makes me grab the nearest item and throw it in his general direction.

It misses since I have no aim whatsoever and Derek has skinwalker reflexes. Only, I didn’t expect him to keep moving towards me instead of far, far away from me. Then before I can do anything he is holding me, forcing my arms against my body preventing me from doing any more damage than I already have.

Then I realize he isn’t just holding me; he is whispering. He is telling me to calm down, to please stop hurting myself and please stop fighting him. His voice sounds like it is killing him to see me like this and it reminds me of the Derek I spend the day with, the Derek telling me about his family, the Derek from the car telling me he actually cares.

When I give up fighting and just let the pain take over and leave me helpless, he holds me for another couple of minutes before carrying me bridal style. My head ends up right above his heart where his heartbeat and familiar smell somehow manage to calm my sobs. It lets me forget about all the shit and just focus on the two things for a while.

* * *

 

I have no idea where he is taking me, until he carries me out of the Camera and towards my own front door. Everything inside of me starts acting up again because I am nowhere ready to face my dad; I am nowhere ready to face any of it.

“Please, don’t make me go in there… please, Derek, don’t make me face him.”

“You don’t have to face anything, I promise. I am going to stay with you as long as you need me, okay? I am going to make sure you are okay.”

My dad has the door opens before Derek even thinks about ringing the doorbell looking all scary-dad-like. Derek doesn’t seem faced though; he just looks even more determent to do whatever it is he thinks he is doing right now. I really hope he can keep his promise, because I don’t want to be alone with my dad… and it feels good to have Derek around. It feels good to have his arms around me and his heart beating against my ear.

“Sheriff, I don’t care what this looks like, I don’t even care what you think, because your son needs me right now and I am not going to abandon him like the rest of the people in his life.”

Apparently that is the right thing to say, because my dad steps aside without saying a word, clearly letting Derek do whatever he thinks he needs to do. Derek steps past him and walks up the stairs to my room without missing a beat. I have no idea how he knows where it is, but I don’t care right now. All I care about is Derek not leaving.

He puts me down on my bed and drags me against his chest holding me close rubbing my back. Somehow the niceness of it makes me go through all those horrible emotions from today all over again, only I don’t have any more tears left. I don’t have anything left.

“You always save me…”

He doesn’t answer, but I think everything that has happened today speaks volumes.

He clearly isn’t the one only who is screwed up.


	13. … Before They Get Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for posting late, but my life has been crazy the last week. University is kicking my ass because I have my first exam in the beginning of April and I have no idea where I am going to find the time to study.  
> But the chapter is up now and I really hope you like it. it is sort of the calm before the storm, because there is only two chapters left and then the epilogue, but hopefully I will be able to post the rest during Easter and then start posting from the next story in the beginning of May/end April.  
> I love you for leaving comments and kudos, it makes me happy to read what you write, think so please keep leaving them and let me know what you think <3
> 
> Please tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe <3

Waking up the next morning feels a little like having an emotional hangover. My throat feels dry, my stomach feels fuzzy and my eyes burn like hell every time I as much as think about opening them. The only positive about my existence at the moment is the nice toasty feeling I have.

Then it hits me that the nice warmness surrounding me has something to do with the _human furnace_ currently holding me. It takes a little longer for my mind to realize that the human furnace is _Derek Hale_ and that he actually stayed _in my bed_ all freaking night.

How do you even react to that? Am I supposed to say something or do something when this kind of thing happens? We didn’t _do_ anything… but how the hell do I explain what happened last night or why the hell Deaton decided to call Derek of all people. I didn’t plan on _anybody_ seeing me in that state of mind least of all Derek.

Suddenly, the body behind mine starts moving in a pattern that clearly indicates that Derek is waking up. But an awake Derek means talking and I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to do anything but forget yesterday ever happened.

“Morning…”

My voice won’t seem to work, which Derek doesn’t take like a good sign if him tensing up is anything to do by. Something tells me this is _not_ end well.

“Stiles, are you okay? Do you want me to leave? You were upset last night and I didn’t want to just leave you…”

Somehow the thought of Derek leaving me brings back my voice full strength, which ends with me letting out a sound I, in no way, want to admit ever came out of my body. I also almost end with me on the floor because I chose to turn around a little too fast for my exhausted body to keep up.

“No, _please_ … don’t leave….”

I can barely get the last two words out, mainly because my voice isn’t doing too well either after the screaming I did at Deaton’s clinic. But Derek hears me and he actually smiles that little smile of his, the one that makes my heart flutter.

Then I remember him rejecting me yesterday and all the warm fuzzy feelings disappear. Everything about the guy confuses me! One minute he is telling me we can’t be together and making up terrible excuses and then he comes and saves my damn ass and stands up to my dad because he knows I need him to. Too many damn mixed signals!

“I am sorry that you had to see me like that last night…”

“I am not. I am glad I was there when you needed me last night Stiles.”

“But you shouldn’t have to come save me; we barely know each other!”

“You are still not the one who needs to apologize to anyone, all of those people who pushed you far enough to reach that point are the ones that need to start apologizing.”

Hearing those words makes something inside me feel lighter, because even if I logically know I had every right to be angry with everybody yesterday, it still feels nice to hear  someone else say it.

“They didn’t know how bad things were… I am too good at hiding things.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to protect everybody else.”

“I have just been doing it for so long.”

Derek squeezes my shoulder lightly as if to show me that he is here and he isn’t going anywhere. I know we have to take about what happened in the alley, but right now I just want to enjoy his presence for a while before reality sets in again.

“Stiles, I need you to know that I am sorry for the way I handled the kiss yesterday. I _panicked_ and I couldn’t think straight, because… because I really like you and I am not used to wanting to be around people. I would like to… do what you suggested or even just staying friends until you feel like you are ready for a relationship, because I think we have something special. I don’t think I have ever met anyone who understands me like you do.”

His words make my heart beat faster and all I want to do is throw myself at him, but I know rushing into anything won’t do any good for any of us.

“I agree, but… I might… need to stay friends _right now_. I like you, I _really_ like you, but my mind is a mess and I think the responsible thing to do is figure that out before we… you know… start things. We are both screwed up and I don’t want to screw _this_ _thing_ between us up.”

“Me either.”

Then he puts an arm around me and _holds me._ He just holds me and it feels amazing; it feels like home. He makes me feel like all those terrible thoughts haunting my mind can’t touch me, like they don’t control my life as long as he is here.

“I know you might not want to, but do you think you could tell me about what happened yesterday? It _terrified_ me to see you that way, Stiles.”

“It scared me too… being in that place. Everything just escalated so fast. It started with our fight, but then my dad, my grandparents and _Scott_ had decided to have an intervention…”

“An intervention?”

The concept of an intervention seems as ridiculous to Derek as it did to me when I stepped through the doors to the diner. I _still_ can’t believe Scott would do that to me.

“Yes, they thought my recent behavior warranted an intervention. I know I haven’t been myself, but who would be if they found out about skinwalkers, murderers and not being completely human? How do you even explain that to people? Are you supposed to explain that to people? But _Scott knows_ what has been going on, hell, he is the reason I am this involved in the first place, so why didn’t he defend me? Why didn’t he tell them that I am _fine_?”

“I don’t know, Stiles.”

He puts an arm around my shoulders before resting his forehead against the side of my head. He doesn’t say anything else, but somehow he doesn’t need to. He understands me somehow.

Right then, I realize I am going to be late for school. Okay, if I am being completely realistic, I know I am going to miss school because I am sure as hell not going anywhere near that deathtrap today. But it means that my attendance record is going to suffer and my GPA is going to take a hit, because I am going to miss one of Harris’ ridiculous tests and he never lets anybody retake anything unless they have been called in sick. Why does this always happen to me?

“My Chemistry teacher is going to slaughter me tomorrow…”

Derek looks like he doesn’t understand a single thing coming out of my mouth, but seeing as he has a freaking college degree he probably doesn’t remember the horror that is high school. It is still strange thinking that I might have a boyfriend soon who is a _college graduate_. I doubt anybody at school would have thought I could even get someone like Derek Hale to talk to me.

“We have a test today and he doesn’t let anybody retake it unless you have been called in sick and he already has it out for me because he doesn’t understand how I am getting A’s when I don’t really listen to anything he says in class…”

“I heard your dad calling your school before he left; he told them you are sick and won’t be coming in today, so it won’t affect your attendance or test.”

“You just saved my sanity, thank god!

Derek’s smile settles me in a strange way. I haven’t seen it before, but it makes me think of the way my parents used to look at me; like I am the most important thing in their world. To even think that Derek feels that way about me makes me smile back.

It makes me think that maybe things will get better eventually.

It is just going to take time.

 

* * *

 

Derek stays around the entire day and we just sit around watching movies and talking about all kinds of random things. It feels strange with everything going on to have such a normal day, but after yesterday it might be the best thing.

Around 3PM Derek tenses up and looks strangely like a predator ready to jump his prey and I don’t realize why until I hear Scott calling my name from downstairs. I am so shocked that Scott would actually show up, I don’t actually move before he is standing in my bedroom door looking surprised to see Derek here and honestly a little scared.

“Stiles…”

“You need to leave.”

Derek’s harsh tone pulls me right out of my funk. I want Derek’s support, I can accept the fact that I am going to need his help, but that doesn’t mean that I want him fighting my battles. A hand on Derek’s arm makes him ease down a bit, but he is still ready to defend me if there is even the slightest suggestion that I am going to need it.

“What do you want, Scott?”

“We need to talk…”

“ _We_ need to talk? I thought you didn’t want to talk to me as long as I didn’t support your little romance with the girl whose family is out to kill you?”

Scott looks like my words might as well have been a slap in the face, but I don’t want to sugarcoat it for him. He needs to hear it and we need to communicate and be honest with each other if our friendship is going to survive the mess we have made of it.

“I know I suck, but, please, just hear me out.”

Derek sends me a look that is him asking me what I want him to do. But I don’t know. I don’t know if I want him to stay for this, because I could definitely need the support, but I am not sure it is going to help my friendship with Scott if he does.

“Derek, do you think you could go down stairs?”

“Sure, just yell if you need me to throw out the moron, okay?”

“Okay, thank you… for everything.”

He pulls me in close resting his forehead against my throat before making his way out of my room leaving me and Scott on our own. Scott visibly relaxes as soon as the door closes behind Derek; I didn’t really realize how terrified Scott is of him, but considering how easy Derek beats Scott during training, I would be terrified too if I was him. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Yesterday, at the diner… I am sorry I didn’t stand up for you, but your dad started asking questions and I panicked…”

“I am not going to lie to you, Scott. It _hurts_ because _you know_ why I haven’t been acting like myself. _You know_ what has been going on, but you still let them attack me like that. You didn’t even warn me what was going to happen.”

“And I should have, but… why didn’t you tell me things were that bad?”

I am going to have to tell him about all the shit I have been desperately trying to keep from him for years. It makes me sick to consider what he is going to think of me when we are done with this conversation, because he doesn’t know how broken I am.

“I have been hiding things from _everyone…_ even my grandparents don’t know all of it and it is _not_ because I don’t love all of you… I just… I don’t want you to leave because I am too much trouble. I know it sounds stupid, but after my mother left us… it broke something inside of me and I don’t think it ever really healed. I just got really good at pretending it never happened and then I started hiding what went on at home because my _dad_ didn’t handle her leaving well… he… he started _drinking_ …”

I force myself to take a deep breathe before I continue, because talking about all it hurts in a way that memories don’t. It does make me feel good to talk about it, but it still _hurts_.

“He didn’t really feel like my dad anymore… it felt like I had lost both of my parents and I had to take care of him because he couldn’t take care of himself. No matter what I did he got more and more depressed and… it _killed_ me inside to see him like that. Eventually, it got so bad that I missed school because I didn’t want to leave him alone because I was _terrified_ he would hurt himself… that’s when my grandparents found out. They talked to him and things got better… but they haven’t been _good_ since then… we don’t really talk about _anything_. We have pretty much been avoiding each other for years…”

“ _Stiles_ , you are my _best friend_ … I would have been there for you, hell; my mom would have been there for you if you had told us…”

“I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t _want_ all of you to know how _broken_ I am… because a part of me is terrified that… I am too broken to stick around for.”

Saying it out loud makes me want to crawl into fetal position and cry my eyes out, because it hurts to admit. It hurts to consider the fact people might not care enough to stick around when it gets hard, because why would they? I am not anything special… I am never going to be.

“I am _not going to leave_ , Stiles. I know I haven’t been a great friend lately, but… I am not going to leave you.”

“I am gay.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott looks like he doesn’t know what he is supposed to do with that information and I am _really_ not sure where the hell that came from. I have known I am gay for as long as I can remember and I have never had a problem with it, but I haven’t really _told_ people.

“I like guys.”

“I know what gay means, but I thought you were crazy about _Lydia?_ ”

“Apparently, everyone thought that including Lydia…”

“You talked to Lydia about it?”

“Yes, in the _detention you_ got me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that one…”

Scott’s ears turn a little red and the kicked puppy expression makes an appearance, because he knows it wasn’t fair and if we hadn’t been fighting he would have stood up for me. But he didn’t and I am not going to let him forget it anytime soon.

“So do you like anybody?”

Oh god, how the hell do I explain this one? How do you tell your best friend that said best friend’s skinwalker mentor and you are having a sort of not really relationship that might turn into a real relationship because you like each other?

“Yeah, I like somebody…”

“Is it anybody I know? Is it Danny? Because I could totally see you and Danny…”

“It’s not Danny.”

“Then tell me!”

“I am crazy about Derek?”

“ _Derek Hale!”_

“Yes.”

“Dude!”

“We kissed…”

“DUDE!”

“… but I don’t know what to do.”

Scott looks like a cross between a very disturbed and a very excited puppy, but he always looks a little like a puppy, so that’s not something new. The strange mixture of expression does make me nervous, though.

“You have a thing for Derek? You do realize he doesn’t do anything but scowl right? Those eyebrows make you feel like you have constantly done something wrong!”

“Don’t judge the eyebrows, dude! I like them!”

“You are weird, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me for it.”

“I do and I want you to know that I don’t care that you are gay _or_ that you like Derek even though that is just… _weird_. You can love whoever you want because I am always going to love _you_ even if I lose sight of what is important sometimes.”

Scott hugs me really tight and I realize how much I have missed him the past few days where we have been fighting. I have missed talking to my friend and it feels _right_ telling him about every fucked up thing in my life, because things are moving forward for the first time in forever.

“But I know I haven’t been fair to you, Stiles. Everything that has happened lately has screwed up my head and I just… I desperately wanted to feel normal and Allison makes me feel like a normal teenage boy.”

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I know and I appreciate it, because I know things can’t be normal right now. I know I have to end things with Allison, at least, until we have everything under control so we can find out if they are going to kill me or not. Plus, my best friend needs me right now and I am going to be there for him.”

“ _Thank you_ for saying that. It means everything to hear you say that.”

Then I let Scott hold me as the emotion settle in, because everything feels a little shaky. Everything feels a little out of balance or maybe in balance for the first time in what feels like forever. I have finally started making the right decisions and it feels good.

Then Scott starts chuckling quietly out of nowhere, which makes me look at him suspiciously, because why the hell is he laughing right now! I haven’t done anything, have I?

“Derek says he isn’t always scowly; I just make him want to punch me in my face with my ignorance.”

That makes me laugh out loud, because I can imagine Derek sitting downstairs on the couch pouting adorably with that little scowl on his face that makes me want to kiss him. I can’t wait until I am ready to be with him, but I have a few more people I need to talk to before I am mentally ready for any kind of relationship.

 

* * *

 

Derek and Scott offer to come with me when I tell them I want to talk to the people I confronted yesterday, but I need to do this on my own. I need to prove that I _can_ do this.

The first people on my list are my grandparents and standing in front of the diner I have no idea how I am supposed to handle this. I am pissed at them for keeping secrets, but I have gotten far too good at hiding my problems; far too good at keeping things they need to know from them too, so things need to change on both fronts.

It is right before the dinner crowd, so my grandparents are too busy to notice me sneaking in. It’s only when I sit down by the counter they realize they have got company and it doesn’t seem like it was the company they expected.

“Stiles…”

“We didn’t expect to see you.”

“Yeah, I know, but I figured we probably needed to talk about last night… you know me freaking out at everybody…”

My grandparents don’t know what to do or, at least, they just stand there staring at me like they can’t believe what they are seeing or hearing or whatever. But I need this if I want to get well enough to be in a relationship with Derek without screwing everything up with my issues.

“I am sorry for freaking out, I shouldn’t have handled it the way I did, but I meant what I said. I need you to be honest with me and I know I need to be more honest with you too. We have all been hiding things from each other.”

“We knew you were having a hard time, but…”

“We didn’t know it was that bad, sweetheart. We just wish you trusted us enough to come to us.”

“I trust _you_ … I just _don’t trust me_. Since mom left... I haven’t felt worth staying around for; I have felt like a burden dragging everybody else down with me.

My grandma hurries over to me and holds me so tight I can barely breathe. She is on the verge of tears and my grandpa doesn’t seem like he is doing much better either. It reminds me too much of when they found out about my dad… it brings back all those emotions of not being strong enough for the people who need me; even if I know that I, at seventeen, shouldn’t have to be strong enough on my own. I should have people who help me be strong enough, people who protect me from things like this.

“Your grandpa and I talked about what you overheard and we agree that you need to know. How much has Derek told you about his family’s… predicament?”

“Well, I know about skinwalkers if that’s what you are suggesting.”

It feels strange to say it out loud and it feels even stranger to talk to _my grandparents_ about it. How do they even know about skinwalkers? Does everybody and no one decided to fill me in? Do they have something to do with what is going on the same way Deaton does?

“Your mother, she… she was connected to the supernatural. She wouldn’t tell us how, but she told us it meant that she was in danger because knowing about what she is puts everybody in danger because she is protecting people not everybody agrees need protecting. She kept it a secret from you and your dad, because she thought it would keep you safe. It is also the reason why she left…”

“Your mother loves you, Stiles. She loves you more than anything else in the world, but she thought she was helping you by leaving you behind. She thought she was keeping you safe from whoever is after her.”

“We are sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but your mother made us promise…”

“Mom didn’t want to leave us… Deaton said the same thing, but…”

“You didn’t really believe him? Your mother felt the same way when she first got here, but they were really good friends when she left, Stiles. You can trust him.”

 

* * *

 

After coming down from the confusion my grandparents left in my mind, I make my way to Deaton’s clinic. He helped me last night when he had every right to send me away and I want to thank him for that. Plus, if he hadn’t called Derek we wouldn’t be in the good place we are now, so I guess I have him to thank for that too.

One of his clients from a town over is leaving as I come in. Seeing Deaton, I can’t help but remember completely trashing his backroom yesterday and he actually still looks _pleased_ to see me despite everything. I am not sure I would be the bigger person the same way if it was me.

“Stiles, I am glad you are feeling better.”

“Thanks, I am sorry for coming over in the middle of the night and trashing the place…”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I should be the one apologizing to you. You were right; I need to take more responsibility when it comes to this town. I had forgotten why I became an emissary in the first place, so I have something I need to show you, if you will follow me.”

We end up in his office, the one place beside the reception it doesn’t look like a tornado hit and destroyed. I have to say I did a thorough job.

He opens his computer and then shows me a file that makes my jaw drop. It contains an article I have read more times than I can count since I started my research and I never in a million years considered this as a possibility. But it fits. Everything _fits_.

“Does this mean what I think it means?”

“If you think it means that I am the freelance reporter you have been looking for, then yes.”

“How do you know we have been looking for you?”

“You are a smart kid, Stiles. Far smarter than anybody wants to give you credit for and I knew you would find the articles and I knew you would start looking for answers. I also know that I am good enough a hiding my tracks that you wouldn’t find me, unless…”

“You wanted to be found. Why did you write them? I thought you didn’t get involved.”

“I tried to do as much as I felt I could without getting directly involved. I hoped someone like you would read them and start looking for answers. I prayed that the ones responsible would be caught, but instead they framed the serial killer who they then got rid of.”

The pieces start falling into place. This means serial killer wasn’t the Hale Murderer, but that the real murderer is still out there and most likely behind the situation with the symbols in town, plus this person has enough power to infiltrate a secure police facility and kill a man in police custody without causing suspicion.

“But this isn’t the only thing I have been keeping from you. You and your mother, you possess what we emissaries call a Spark, which is a form of magic.”

Everything starts spinning slightly and my head hurts from considering what Deaton is saying means. _Magic!_ I have _magic?!_ What does that even mean? Is this the ritual and sacrifice type of magic or is it more Harry Potter type of magic? How the hell do I have magic?!

“You belong to a long line of Hunters who protect the supernatural _and_ the non-supernatural. Your family has never seen them as different species the way most Hunters do, but it isn’t a popular stand point. It has made sure your family is almost extinct, because there are only a few members including you and your mother left. But it isn’t the supernatural who have been killing you… it is the Hunters.”

Is this the same people my grandparents were talking about, the people who my mom is running from while trying to protect us? Do they know about me? Are they going to come after and to kill me? What am I supposed to do with this?

“Stiles, the power you have inherited from your mother, it means you have a responsibility and you need to choose what to do with those abilities.”

“Why did you keep this a secret for so long? Why not tell me sooner and give me a chance to defend myself in case whoever it is comes to kill me?”

“Your mother thought it would keep you safe, if you didn’t know, so she made me promise not to tell you. But this situation has evolved in a way that she couldn’t have predicted and I feel like you need to know to stay safe.”

It is a lot of information in a short period of time. I still can’t wrap my head around the magic thing, but I am grateful that Deaton is telling me considering that most people would have stayed silent, if they had made a promise like he had. He actually seems to want what is best for me.

The bell from the reception signals that someone needs his help. He squeezes my shoulder before he makes his way towards the door. It makes me feel restless, because I have one question I need an answer to and he is the only one can answer.

“Can I ask you a question before you go?”

“Of course, Stiles, what do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you call my dad last night? Why did you call Derek?”

“You and Derek have a bond. I can’t explain it, but it means they are good together. You need to trust your feelings for him, Stiles. You need each other to heal.”

It feels strange being left in his office with those words. A strange sense of absurdity washes over me because how would he know anything about our relationship, but the reason for the absurdity is that it resonates with something inside of me. It resonates with the feeling that are telling me the same thing and it makes me wonder if there is something more to being an emissary than Deaton has let on. Does he still know more about this than he tells me?

 

* * *

 

On the drive home, the sense of absurdity won’t go away. But the moment I step over the threshold at home, I forget about everything that is going on because my dad is running around like crazy person like the world is going to end if he stands still.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“The hospital just called. The Mayor woke up from his come and he is demanding to talk to you as soon as possible.”

“To _me?_ ”

“I am as surprised as you are, kid. I know we need to talk about what happened yesterday, but could you do this for me?”

“I am on my way to the car.”

 

* * *

 

My dad has barely managed to pack the car, before I am running towards the entrance. The nurses are a huge help as soon as they find out why I am here and all I can think about is that this man could have all the answers we have been waiting for.

The only thing I don’t understand is why he wants to talk to me. Of all the people in this town, I really wouldn’t think I would be the one he wants to spill all his secrets to. I would have guessed Deaton seeing as they were working together but considering Deaton’s mysterious ways it wouldn't surprise me if they have already communicated in their own strange way.

The nurse explains that his injuries are severe and I shouldn’t stay longer than I can handle. But I understand what she means when I see him, because he is covered in bandages and he generally looks like he is more pain than any human being should experience.

“Stiles, you made it here…”

“My dad told me, you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, but we need to hurry, Mr. Stilinski, because the pain medication is making me sleepy. Deaton told me you know about skinwalkers and who your mother is, but what you might not know is that I have been protecting the supernatural for years with Deaton.”

“So you are an emissary too?”

“No, I have no supernatural abilities whatsoever, but I was adopted by a skinwalker couple and I met Deaton in college, where we became close friends. The reason for my involvement happened when I was twenty-three and I came home for some break… I saw my parents being slaughtered for no reason by Hunters and that day I decided that I wanted to prevent it from happening to anybody else if I could prevent it.”

By know he looks like he is about to pass out from the pain and I have to physically stop myself from pushing the morphine button myself, because it doesn’t feel good to watch this kind of pain.

“Are you sure you don’t want some pain medication?”

“No, no, I am almost finished… I have to tell you… one more thing. The second symbol… it belongs… to the Argents.”

The Argents. _The Argents._ Those words keep going through shocked my mind, because I can’t really believe they would do this. I know Gerard is insane, but it’s still hard imagining someone killing other human beings the way he did the Hales.

Then I can’t help but think if Allison really doesn’t know what her family does? How could she not know what her grandfather is doing?

“What does that mean?”

“It means the Argents… are controlling the skinwalkers… most likely… to kill them…”

Those words strike something inside of me I can’t explain. It creates an urge to find my mother’s book, because something tells me the answers are in there somewhere. I just don’t know what it is that I am looking for. It is like it is screaming that I have finally found the missing piece, only I don’t know which piece it is.

I remember Derek’s suspicions and I realize he was right about the Argents. I desperately want to call him, but it doesn’t feel like something you tell someone over the phone. He deserves to be told in person, so I will call him later. As soon as I have listened to those damn urges, I am going to call him and tell him I have found his family’s murderer.

I just hope he doesn’t resent the messenger.

 

* * *

 

My dad asked me if the Mayor said anything about the case, but I make some vague excuse about him being high on morphine and not making any sense. He doesn’t believe me, but he stops asking questions. Before running upstairs, I promise him that we are going to talk as soon as all the crazy about the case is over. He looks happy about that and I am strangely enough actually looking forward to it.

I pull the book from my schoolbag and start flipping through it again. It makes me frustrated because the urge is still there and I feel like I am missing something. It makes me want to throw the book out of the window, but it isn’t until I reach the page with the spells that two of the pages suddenly separate revealed something that makes my heart beat faster.

One part describes how to break an average spell, which I figure I might be able to use, but it isn’t until I read it a second time I really realize what I have been missing before. It makes me frantically grab for my phone, because I need to call Derek and I need to call him _now._

“Stiles…”

“There’s one symbol left…”

“What are you talking about?”

“The spell they have been preforming with the symbols… there is one symbol left _before_ _they_ _destroy_ _everything_ …”


	14. Storming In Head First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left... it feels strange to even think about it. I have been working on this for three months and it's probably only going to be a couple of weeks before it's all done. Of course there is the sequels, but I am crazy stressed because there is only a week until my first exam... Sorry for the rambling 
> 
> This chapter is a long one and I am really excited to hear what you think and I really hope you like it :)  
> Please keep commenting and leaving kudos, it means everything to see that you like the story <3  
> Tell me if I need to add tags or warnings or something  
> Stay safe <3

When the words have left my mouth, I feel like I have just run a marathon. My heart is beating franticly and my breathing is shallow. My entire body feels tense, because I finally solved this. Now we just need to find a way to stop these people.

“Derek, did you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you, but what does that mean?”

“It’s the Argent… the Mayor; he told me that their family symbol is the second one, which means that they are binding the skinwalkers to their family. Up until now they have only been able to control one or two skinwalkers for very short periods of time when their defenses are lowered, like when they are sleeping the way they did it with Scott. But if they manage to cast the symbol, they are going to have full control over all the skinwalkers who don’t know they are skinwalkers.”

“So what you are saying is that they are going to control all of us and we won’t be able to do anything about it?”

“Not exactly, if you are aware that you are a skinwalker like you are, you should be able to fight off the control. I think that’s why they haven’t been able to control Scott the last few days, because he has actually accepted the fact that he is skinwalker.”

There is quiet on the other end of the line. I can’t blame him, I don’t think it has really sunk in by me yet and even if I am not saying it, we both know what the Argents being behind this means; they were the ones who murdered Derek’s family.

“Do you know when this is going to happen?”

“I am not sure…”

“But you have a theory?”

“It might happen on the next full moon…”

“That’s Friday… tomorrow…”

“That’s when the spell would be able to harness the most power.”

It feels so _big_ somehow that we have finally found out who is doing this. It is absurd that we know who the murderers are, but we can’t really do anything. We aren’t the police, so we can’t just arrest them. We could tell my dad, but how would we find a judge who would actually believe any of this? Most of the evidence we have are tied to the skinwalkers and telling the world about their existence isn’t going to anyone any good.

“What do they want with the skinwalkers? Why would go through all of it just you can control a group of teenage skinwalkers?”

“I don’t know. But I am pretty sure that whatever they have planned is going to end with all of those skinwalkers dead. It feels horrible just saying it.”

I sit down on my bed and hold my pillow tight against me. I feel so strangely exposed and alone sitting here in my room alone. Derek would probably be here in ten minutes if I told him, but I… he has enough to think about right now.

“You know, I wanted to tell you about Kate and Gerard in person… I didn’t want to tell you about what they did on the phone…”

“It is okay, Stiles. I am just glad I finally know, because that has actually been the hardest part about the last five years; not really knowing. So thank you, for finding out for me.”

“You would do the same for me…”

“I would…”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, I wake up and everything aches. It isn’t until I notice that I am still wearing my clothes, holding my pillow against my chest that I realize I must have fallen asleep right after Derek and I said goodnight.

It’s going to go down tonight. If we don’t manage to stop them, then I don’t know what I am going to wake up to tomorrow. The world as I know it would be over…

My door opening surprises me so much that my freakishly uncoordinated body ends up on the floor. My dad must have seen the entire thing go down, because when I finally escape my blanket entanglement he is laughing a little at my confused expression.

“You are actually laughing at me?”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No… but I could have!”

“I am sorry for laughing; do you have time talk before school?”

“I guess…”

“You were hoping you could stay home sick again today, weren’t you?”

“Am I an awful person if I say yes?”

“I will see you down stairs in ten minutes.”

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I am sitting down at the counter in the kitchen. My dad has made breakfast and coffee for the both of us. He is looking more rested and healthier than I have seen him since the case started. It looks good on him.

“We should talk about what happened…”

“You should know that I want things to get better and I know that if we want things to be better we are going to have to be more honest with each other.”

“I agree; we need to stop avoiding each other when things are tough… we need to start acting like a family.”

Just hearing that word; _family,_ it makes me want to crawl up in my dad’s lap the way I did when I was a kid, but I am not going to fit anymore. I am almost eighteen years old. I am almost grown up. But I still miss my family.

“I miss mom…. I don’t think I have ever really let myself miss her because I had to look after you right after it happened. I mean I hate her for leaving, but, at the same time, I just want her to come back, because she is _my mom_. I want her to hold me and run her fingers through my hair like she used to and tell me everything is going to be alright. Even if I know she won’t…”

“I miss her too, kid. She is the love of my life and I know we were having a hard time when she left… but I never really understood _why_ she would just leave the way she did… I just really wish I would have been a better dad to you since it happened.”

“We just have to do better from now on.”

He smiles at me before messing up my hair and for the first time in so long, he reminds me of the dad I had before she left. He reminds of the dad who would come to _everything._ He reminds of the guy who I thought was my hero as a kid; the guy who would never let anything bad happen to me.

“In the interest of honesty, I want you to know I am going to Lydia Martin’s party tonight.”

Right as I mention the word party, my dad looks like I just told him I want to join a cult and I haveno idea why. It’s a _party_ for god sake.

“I don’t want you think that I don’t trust you, but I have to say I worried about you going to a questionable high school party when there is someone on the loose hurting people.”

“And I understand that dad and I promise I am going to do anything stupid, but I _need_ this, I need to be a normal teenager for once and normal teenagers go to questionable high school parties with their friends...”

“I said I was worried, I didn’t say I was going to forbid you from going. I know you need to be an ordinary teenager for once, you shouldn’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

There is still ten minutes before I have to go, so I decide to just enjoy the breakfast my dad made, which turn out to be surprisingly good. I am starting to think he might have been holding out on me concerning the whole cooking thing.

“And don’t you even think I am going to forget about the twenty-three year old _college graduate_ who stayed over in _your room_ the other night.”

“Dad!”

“I am not going to approve that you are seeing a twenty-three year old! You are seventeen!”

“DAD!”

“But I think you are good for each other…”

“Wait, what?”

Did _my dad_ just tell me that he thinks that _Derek Hale_ and I are good for each other? I was pretty sure I was about to get the ‘stay the hell away from the older guy’ speech, but no? I am not going to complain, don’t get me wrong, I am going to thank whoever needs thanking and just accept it until I turn eighteen and our relationship is technically legal.

“He makes you _smile_ , Stiles. I haven’t seen you smile like that in such a long time, so I guess any guy that can make my baby happy… he can’t be all bad, right?”

“So you are not going to force us to stay away from each other?”

“I am not condoning any more sleepovers if that’s what you are asking, but I am not going to tell you who you can and cannot date.”

“So would it be completely inappropriate to ask you for some advice?”

“That depends on the advice.”

“Do you think Derek would go with me to the party or would it be stupid to ask?”

“I don’t know, kid, but the only way you will know is if you ask him.”

 

* * *

 

So when I am on my way out of the door with my bag swung over my shoulder and my phone in my hand, I wonder if I should just call him. I am never going to know if I don’t ask him, but I don’t know if I can handle him telling me no either. It still doesn’t feel real that a guy like him would be interested in a guy like me.

“Stiles…”

For the second time today, I end up on the ground only this time it is Derek I am staring up at instead of my dad. I have to say I like this view a little better. God, he is good looking!

“You should wear a bell on you or something, God!”

“I just wanted to see you before school, so I thought I could drive you?”

He actually came just to drive me to school, because he wanted to _see_ me? How do you respons to that? I don’t even know what to do with my body, but I must have managed to nod, because the next thing I know we are sitting in the camaro on our way to school.

“I talked to my dad this morning.”

“Are you guys alright?”

“It has been so integrated in the both of us to avoid each other, it’s going to take a transition period, but I think we will be. He actually mentioned you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, he actually said we were good for each other, dude!”

The scowl Derek sends my way when I call him dude makes me throw my head back and laugh, because it is just priceless. He makes everything a little brighter.

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Did you just overlook the greatness of my previous statement? _My dad actually thinks we are good for each other!_ ”

“That is pretty good, isn’t it?”

“It’s great.”

Then he just grads my hand and squeezes it like it the most normal thing in the world, but it is not, because _Derek Hale_ is holding my hand and he isn’t letting go. Even if it is a total inconvenience because he is driving, he refuses to let go and it makes my heart beat a little faster and I can’t get the stupid smile of my face. I guess this is what it feels like to be really happy.

“Would you go with me to a party tonight?”

“What party?”

“Lydia Martin is throwing a party and she actually invited me and I thought maybe you would want to go… with me…”

The only way to describe Derek’s expression right now is pained and it instantly makes me pull my hand back. I can’t believe I actually thought he would want to be seen with me. Of course, he doesn’t want to be seen with a seventeen year old.

“I am _twenty-three,_ Stiles, if I came to a high school party it would scream weird and red alert… am sorry, but I can’t go.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“What? Why would you think that?”

“It’s not like I blame you. Who would want to be seen with the pathetic seventeen-year-old…”

“Don’t you dare say it! I would love to scream it from the rooftops, I am _so proud_ that someone like you; someone as smart and unbelievably handsome would be seen with me, but we have to be careful for now. I don’t everybody judging us and ruining what we have got, I refused to do that!”

I haven’t even realized that Derek parked the car; too mesmerized by the words I so desperately want to believe, but I keep telling me can’t be true, because it is _me_.

Then Derek leans over and kisses me gently. It is just a simple press of lips, but it settles something inside of me; calms me somehow and I know we are going to be alright. It has to be.

 

* * *

 

The hallways are buzzing with the excitement that comes from Lydia Martin throwing a party. Everybody knows that it is going to be the party of the year, because it always is. She always manages to do _something_ that just makes it the best time. Well, at least that’s what I have heard, because I haven’t really been invited before.

After pulling my book out of my locker, I find Scott looking at me a little too intently for my liking. What the hell is up with him today? He looks like I am some giant piece of meat or something.

“Dude, what’s with the staring?”

“You got invited to Lydia Martin’s _party!_ ”

“I know… I was there…”

“ _Everybody_ is going to be there!”

Right then it hits me, if they are going to do anything tonight that is going to be the place to do it. Every teenager in Beacon Hills wants to go to that party and most of them are going to be there, which means that total of potential skinwalkers are going to be _huge_.

“That’s where it is going to happen!”

“Well, yeah, the party is going to happen… at the party?”

“No, I found out that they need to one last symbol, before they have full control over the… _you know…_ and we think it is going to happen tonight, because it is the full moon…”

“What does that have to do with the party?”

“ _You know_ reach maturity when they turn eighteen and since the spell is targeting people who haven’t reached maturation, they are going to be under eighteen and the largest group of people under eighteen is going to be at Lydia’s party tonight, which means there is going to be the largest group of potential skinwalkers to be controlled there.”

“Do you even have a plan?”

Scott, honestly, looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, or maybe more like he wants to lock me inside a closet in some kind of desperate hope that I will stay out of trouble.

“Not really…”

“I am going to have to go with you just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, aren’t I?”

“Hey! When have I ever done anything stupid! I totally figured this whole thing out!”

“Yeah, but I am guessing whoever is behind this don’t like you very much for it.”

“Right… I hadn’t thought about that…”

“And you say you don’t need me.”

“I never said that! I just said that I am the brains in the operations.”

“Right.”

“I will choose not to comment on that tone, young man.”

“You probably should.”

“You suck!”

Scott’s laugh is brilliant; it’s loud and just _happy._ He looks tired and a little stressed, but he feels like my best friend again. It’s strange how fast we have gotten back to the way we were when things were good before, and I am not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

 

* * *

 

On our way to Lydia’s house, I can’t help but feel the excitement. If every fucked up thing hadn’t happened the last few weeks, this would have been the highlight of my life and Scott and me would probably have gotten too drunk to function. But that can’t happen tonight, we have to stay alert so we can try and prevent this disaster from happening.

When we make a turn up the way too long driveway, Allison stands right in front of us and I can feel Scott tensing up the second they get eye contact and she doesn’t look like she is handling seeing him much better. Honestly, they both look miserable and it makes me want to crawl into a hole, even if I know they are better off apart for now, but I still feel responsible.

We start walking again and they keep sneaking glances at each other when they think the other one isn’t looking. It is honestly a little bit like watching a Disney movie with these two. And I really feel bad about being the only reasonable person around, because who the hell can stand seeing these two this miserable? I can’t.

So when the three of us reach the house, I pull the aside into one of the empty rooms I am pretty sure Lydia would kill us for being in, but everything for love.

“You guys need to talk, but you have to do it fast, because if Lydia catches us in here I am pretty sure she is going to skin us alive before we get a word out.”

Then they proceed to look not each other’s eyes, saying _nothing_ and I just want to scream in frustration, because what the hell!

“Stiles’ comment about my family history made me think, so I confronted my dad and I found out that my family does a lot more than selling weapons. My family is Hunters and not the ordinary kind… I honestly just found out a few days ago…”

“I am a skinwalker…”

That might have been the worst way to let the cat out of the bag. The girl just told you that her family is full of hunters and you just blurt out that you are one of the people they are _hunting!_ Allison looks about as surprised as I expected, but at least she hasn’t started running at this point. Scott also seems to know that he didn’t exactly nail the delivery.

“I didn’t choose it… it just kind of happened…”

“Dude, just start from the beginning…”

“Right… I started walking up covered in dirt, first it was my feet, but then it was my entire body and then I started freaking out because I was blacking out and coming to myself standing knee deep in water out in the preserve. I told Stiles the day I found one of my t-shirts covered in blood during school and he figured out what was happening to me… I found out was a skinwalker…”

“What he is trying to say is that you don’t control if you are skinwalker or not, you don’t chose it, so why kill someone for it?”

“You already knew about my family, didn’t you?”

I end up doing a scrounging movement that she seems to take as a yes.

“Your dad and grandpa haven’t exactly been discreet. The second I started hanging out with Derek Hale, they tried to get me to stop seeing him, insinuating it.”

“I don’t know much about my family’s history or their second business, but I agree with you and I know my dad does too, but he told me that some of my family might not… I will help you any way I can; I don’t care that you are a skinwalker.”

At this point the heart eyes between the two got too much to handle and I am pretty sure that if I had stayed I would have witnessed a little more making out than I would have been comfortable with. Scott might be my best friend, but I have no urge to see him make out with a girl.

Her attitude and the promise that Chris Argent might not be as crazy as the rest of his family leave me with a little hope for the future relationship between hunters and skinwalkers in Beacon Hills, if tonight doesn’t ruin everything for good.

I probably should start keeping an eye out if I don’t want to miss it.

 

* * *

 

The second I set a foot inside the kitchen Lydia is on me like a lioness on her prey. She looks gorgeous in what is most likely some expensive designer dress and shoes. I have no clue what the label is, but she looks nice so I guess they serve their purpose.

“You came!”

“You didn’t think I would?”

“I just didn’t know how much of a death wish you had, considering not showing up after I personally invited you equals social suicide.”

“Considering my social life is already dead, it wouldn't really matter.”

“I like you, Stiles Stilinski.”

When did my total rambling stop scaring people away? Usually this is the point where people look at me like they want to punch me, so this is a new one.

“Well, congratulations on your first party, Stilinski…”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“Lydia…”

“Don’t Lydia me! I personally invited Stiles and you insinuating that he doesn’t belong here equals me making a mistake, and we both know _I don’t make mistakes_.”

The look Lydia sends Jackson makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out and it seems to have the same effect on Jackson. God, that woman is scary as hell. Danny is just standing behind us looking way too amused by the whole situation.

“You shouldn’t take Jackson too seriously; he is just a jackass because of the full moon.”

“If this is the reason

“Yeah, I always tell him to go join his friends out into the preserve.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know the old legend?”

“I can’t say that I do.”

“You know the old tree; the one Ms. Daniels took us to see in third grade, the legend says that it attracts witches during the full moon because it is some sort of power source for them.”

“And what do they have to do with Jackson?”

“They are all the most annoying during the full.”

I can’t help laughing even if I know I shouldn’t. It’s still strange. Danny has never been cruel to me the way Jackson has and he even talks to me sometimes in the locker room, but that’s more because it would be awkward not to. He didn’t have to talk to me right now.

Right then it hits me what Danny just told me. This could be the last piece of the puzzle I have been missing – this could be the location of the spell. They always say that there is a grain of truth to ever story, so if the old tree actually is a supernatural power source it could amplify the power of the symbol even more than the full moon could.

I don’t even want to consider what might happen if they manage to do the spell. Just the thought of Gerard Argent controlling what might very well be all the unknown skinwalkers in the state scares the living hell out of me.

I really need to break this spell before everything turns to hell.

On my way out of Lydia’s drive way, I call Derek because I can’t afford to wait around for Scott and Derek to turn up just to have them tell me I can’t do this, because I have actually got a plan. It might not be a very good plan, but it’s a plan.

“I think I know where they are going to do the symbol.”

“Stiles? What are you talking about?”

“Do you know the old tree in the preserve, the big white one they always take you to in elementary school? Well, it might be a power source for magic, which means Gerard and Kate are probably going to try and use it to amplify the effect of the spell.”

“Where are you?”

“Would you kill me if I told you I am on my way there?”

The sigh on the other end tells me he at least feels the need to yell at me for the next two hours about irresponsible behavior. And I know he has every right to, but I can’t let them hurt anymore people; I can’t let them hurt my friends.

“At least wait for me.”

“I might know how to stop it, but I need to get there before they do the symbol or this is going to get a hell of a lot harder than any of us want it to be.”

It doesn’t feel right to hang up on Derek, but I need to get moving. And when I start running towards the preserve I am glad that the full moon offers as much as light as it does, because it means that I don’t get lost between the trees.

Fifteen minutes later, I feel like I am dying, but I have made it there faster than I expected. Then I hear someone coming towards me and I am ready to start running for my life until I see it is Derek. But he doesn’t exactly look happy to see me; then again considering I did hung up on him and ignored everything he told me it is understandable.

“You were right…”

“What?”

“They are here… I can smell them…”

It hits me that Derek is talking about Kate and Gerard Argent, so I start moving towards the little clearing surrounding the tree hidden behind the bushes. You can say they aren’t trying to hide what they are doing, but then again people don’t really come by here all that often so there isn’t really much reason to.

A woman who has to be Kate Argent is drawing up the outline of the symbol on the grass, which seems to be a harder job than you would expect, while Gerard is flipping through a little black book that has to contain the details about the spell.

“How do you want to do this?”

“You are actually asking me?”

“With you storming in head first, I expected you _to actually have a plan!_ ”

“My plan consisted of my breaking the freaking spell; I didn’t actually expect to have back up!”

“Yeah, my bad for trying to protect you!”

“This really isn’t the place to fight.”

The next thing I know we have both been catapulted into the clearing by what I have to assume is some sort of trap. I can’t say I hit the ground gracefully or even well, but anybody would look like a klutz next to Derek’s freaking skinwalker reflexes. Only, the reflexes don’t really help us, when it turns out there is some sort of force field thing keeping us in.

Up until now I have actually manage to suppress the growing panic, but being caught in here is making it really damn hard to keep doing it. I can feel my heartbeat kicking up a notch and my muscles tensing up like my body is ready to fight.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski and Mr. Hale, I am glad you could join us.”

Everything about Kate causing shivers to run down my back; it just screams psychopath. Her walking towards us with that creeping smile on her face really doesn’t make it any better.

“This one certainly grew up well.”

Then it hits me. Kate remembers Derek from five years ago and he looks anything but pleased to see her, which is totally understandably considering she is the reason his entire family is dead. But she is older than I expected; five years ago she had to be well into her twenties and Derek would have been around my age which makes her even creepier than I thought.

“Do you think your family would be proud?”

“I wouldn’t think you understood the concept of pride, considering you kill innocent people for a living. But then again, you never know with psychopaths.”

Kate really doesn’t seem to like my comment, but it has the intended effect, because it takes her attention off Derek, who seemed about ready to pounce on her. He doesn’t seem to like me being the focusing of her attention any more, but it keeps her from provoking him.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just let me handle this!”

I have no idea if this plan is going to work, but it’s the only one I have got. If it doesn’t, at least, it gives me enough time to come up with another one. We can’t let them do this.

“Do you always do the painting on your expeditions?”

“Expeditions? That’s cute, but yes I do.”

“So you did the little symbol at the Hale Murder?”

“You noticed! Oh yes, I did; it would be a shame to let that brilliant piece of work go uncredited, now wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, so now you admit to being a psychotic killer.”

Kate moves towards us, looking ready to strangle me and she only stops right before the edge of whatever is keeping the two of us in.

“I am guessing you didn’t like that.”

“I wish I would have just shut you up when I had the chance.”

“You were the one who attacked me.”

“And I would have succeeded if this one hadn’t shown up; you seemed like such a smart boy and we couldn’t have you figuring out our secret, now could we. It turned out I wasn’t so fair off…”

Suddenly, Derek lets out this growl before storming towards the barrier before I can do anything but stare at him being thrown back at me the second he makes contact. Kate seems to think the anger is hilarious, because is laughing her head off, while I am busy making sure Derek didn’t just hurt himself in that stupid operation.

“Stay away from him! You hear me! _Stay away from him!_ He has nothing to do with this!”

“You stay cool through all the other crab and you chose this one to freak out about!”

“Now Derek, I see you have started seducing minor. Don’t you know that is against the law?”

“Shut up, Kate! And get back to work!”

Kate does not look pleased with her father, but it seems like Gerard might be the only person who can control her. Then Gerard walks towards us with this calculating look in his eyes that scares me more than Kate ever could. I constantly get the feeling he is ten steps ahead of the rest of us and I don’t know how I am going to beat him. How do you beat him?

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, you can Mr. Stilinski.”

“How the hell did you cover your tracks for so long?”

“Well, the only way to keep a secret is to make sure no one is around to tell it. I am guessing you have met Mr. Robert Daniels, the dear man isn’t doing too well; he thinks we are going to kill him.”

“Wait, you literally drove an innocent man insane to keep your secret?”

“I have killed for less, Mr. Stilinski, why are you so surprised? Just look at our dear Mayor, he was going to reveal our little secret and we couldn’t have that, so we made the decision to get rid of the man. It didn’t go as planned, but seeing as he sent a teenage boy and a single skinwalker, he must have lost all common sense.”

What the hell am I doing? I am facing a man who kills and drives people insane just because there is the slightest chance that they might be a threat to his plan, which consists of him, killing every teenage skinwalker in the state somehow.

“How the hell did you become mayor?”

“Most of the men on the town counsel have some… interesting secrets, so I simply told them that if they didn’t vote for me those secrets would be made public knowledge.”

“You threatened your way int the Mayoral office?”

“Oh, you and your mother are so similar; you don’t understand that you have to do some questionable things to reach your goal. She was such a _weak thing_ , so convinced that those _creatures_ are _human_ , pathetic. We had hoped you would be more… _approachable_ , but it seems our hope was wasted.”

“And what exactly is your plan? Why do you want to control the skinwalkers?”

Gerard actually looks excited when I ask my question. It is scary how screwed up a human being can be to be so excited at the thought of hurting so many other people. I don’t even like seeing _my own_ blood, so I can’t even imagine seeing someone else’s.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski, since you ask. After we have taken complete control over the skinwalkers, we plan on walking them into dear Ms. Martin’s birthday party and have the slaughter the young people which will reveal the skinwalkers to the world as the monsters they are. Then the entire country will turn against them and do our dirty work for us killing every last one of them.”

“But… your _job_ as a _Hunter_ is to keep the supernatural hidden from the rest of the world?”

“I thought you knew; I don’t play by their rules.”

Then he turns around to walk over to Kate who is waiting. She has finished painting the symbol and I have no idea how I am going to get out of this freaking trap! The only thing keeping me from having a full on panic attack is Derek’s hand on my back grounding me.

Kate and Gerard step into the symbol and join hands. They chant the spell I remember from my mom’s book and I can’t do anything to stop them. All going through my mind are my friends’ mutilated bodies and the worldwide panic that is going to set in killing thousands of innocent people.

The only thing those thoughts are doing is distracting me from the thought that scares me more than any of the other ones; I don’t know if we are going to survive the next five minutes.


	15. The Final Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter before the epilogue... it feels almost sad even if I know I am going to be writing a sequel. The story has been such a big part of my life the last four months since I started writing it and I am so happy that you have all seemed to like it. 
> 
> I am sorry about the late update, but life kind of happened. I had an exam Wednesday and my grandmother passed away Wednesday right before the exam after having been hospitalized for five days because of chronic obstructive lung disease... it just took a lot out of me, but here is the chapter and I am going to try and be good and post the epilogue as soon as I can.  
> It is pretty much going to take care of some of the loose ends concerning some of the characters and I have a little cliff hanger for you before the sequel that I think you might like, but you will have to see what it is :)
> 
> Now please keep leaving kudos and comments, I love reading/seeing them and knowing you are liking what I am writing. Now if you feel like I need to add any tags, please let me know and I will <3
> 
> Stay safe <3

Anybody would be able to tell when the spell sets in. The moment they have said the last line in the spell, the symbol lights up and I don’t mean it shines a little, no it straight out glows like a flashlight coming out of the ground. It makes my heart stop for just a second, before it continues racing faster than I think it ever has, because this is _not good_.

Those minutes it takes before we can see glowing eyes between the trees feels like the longest moments in my life, because we all know they are coming and we all know why they are coming. Gerard and Kate can’t have us running around and seeing as they have some twisted hatred for the Hales I am better they are going to make Derek suffer. _This **can’t**_ _be happening!_

I don’t know what I expected them to look like, but when the skinwalkers step out from between the trees and out into the moonlight my heart speeds up just a little more. Every single one of them has fangs or claws that look sharp enough to kill and their eyes… their eyes have no trace of humanity left. They will have no problem killing us right now and the way they are circling around me and Derek makes it very clear that it is what they intend to do.

“What exactly did you mean when you said that this was going to be hell of a lot harder than you wanted it to be if they managed to finish the symbol?”

“Well, besides the obvious skinwalkers out to kill us, I am going to have to use a hell of lot more magic to break the circle than I am really sure I have.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s blood magic, Derek… it isn’t exactly safe.”

I can’t get myself to say it out loud, but right now we are facing a hell of lot bigger problem than the symbol, because if I don’t figure out how the hell to get out of this circle there isn’t going to be much of fight between us and the skinwalkers for them to catch us.

Different options keep going through my mind, but I can’t seem to figure out how to get the hell out of this freaking circle! It makes my breathing turn shallow and my hands starts sweating in a way that lets me know that I am heading straight towards a panic attack.

Derek seems to realize the same thing, because he grabs my shoulder hard, which pulls me enough that I am not a complete liability. It makes me so angry that I had finally gotten to a place where the stupid panic attacks didn’t rule my life and now they might cost me mine.

“I don’t know how to get us out, Derek, I don’t know how to fix it!”

“You do! You just need to _think_!”

“Are you seriously saying I am not thinking?!”

“No, I am saying you aren’t thinking straight.”

Right then it comes to me. The only way to break a circle meant to keep the supernatural in is to use something non-supernatural. I frantically look around trying to find _something,_ and then I see it and I can’t help but smile, even if I know it’s the complete wrong situation.

“You haven’t cast a lot of these barriers have you?”

Kate looks completely wrong when I ask the question. She was probably expecting us to be begging for mercy at this point and if she wasn’t a total psychopath, I probably would be, but those two don’t possess a single shred of empathy.

“Why do you care? You are going to die in a few minutes?”

“Well, if you had, you would know that you really should have twigs laying around… you never know who might use them against you.”

I push the twig against the barrier breaking it right in that instant and they really didn’t see that coming. They probably didn’t foresee what I am about to either. Before coming to the party, I went to the clinic and took one of Deaton’s small bags of mountain ash, because you never know when that kind of thing might come in hand.

Now, it is going to come in handy, only Derek is definitely not going to like this. I quickly empty the small bag out in my hand and focus the way the book described before throwing the ash into the air and forcing it to form a circle around Derek making sure nothing can come in, but it also makes sure that Derek can’t come _out_ of it either.

“What did you do?”

The disbelief in Derek eyes makes me want to explain, but there isn’t time. What is important right now is that neither skinwalkers nor Gerard or Kate can hurt him, well, at least, as long as I keep breathing they can’t.

“Well, well, Derek, it seems that your little boyfriend over here is trying to protect you.”

“But that wasn’t a smart move, Stiles.”

“Now, we will just have the skinwalkers finish you off first before we break the circle and have them kill Derek too.”

It is obvious the second Derek realizes what exactly it is that I have done. It is also obvious that my prediction that he wouldn’t like it very much it true. What I didn’t expect is for him to freak out because of it. I don’t know why, I just didn’t.

“Stiles, let me out here, right now!”

Derek doesn’t really seem angry, he seems _worried._ Is he freaking out because he is scared I am going to get hurt? He is, isn’t he?

But now the real work begins, because I need to get close enough to the symbol to break it and I know how I am going to do; it just isn’t going to be pleasant. Moving towards the symbol isn’t going to be easy, because if Kate or Gerard get the slightest idea what I am doing I am going to be dead too fast for me to do anything and then Derek is in danger again. So I need to do some distracting and I need to do it fast.

“Stiles, whatever you think you are doing, just _stop_! Just _let me out_!”

“Shut up, Derek, this is what I was born to do!”

“Oh, the poor little boy thinks he was born to be a little virgin sacrifice!”

“No, the poor little boy comes from the Aleksy line of Hunters!”

The moment I mention the family name the look in Gerard’s eyes change. I have never seen a man go from that evil to that… _excited_ in a matter of seconds. It clearly means something to him, which means that my gamble might work.

“The Aleksy line; that explains so much about your mother and me who just thought she was a misguided ‘sympathetic’ Hunter, but then again I did think your family had gone extinct over a hundred years ago.”

“You seem to be well informed.”

“All of the old Hunter families know about the Aleksy; the most magnificent Hunter family in all of history, they would have been perfect, if only they had had their priorities straight.”

When I stopped by Deaton’s clinic earlier I might have ‘borrowed’ what I need to break the symbol, so I have everything on me with in reach and for now it seems like my plan is working. The skinwalkers haven’t moved any closer since I mentioned the Aleksy name and Gerard seems too enchanted with the thought of the Aleksy line to think about killing right now.

The best of it all is that they haven’t realized that they have moved away from the symbol and I have moved closer to it. I am about half way there, so I just need to keep it up a little while longer.

“Now that I know I almost feel bad about killing you.”

“I can’t really imagine that since Hunters are the reason why people thought my family had gone extinct in the first place. You guys don’t seem to like us very much.”

“You don’t even realize the _potential_ your bloodline holds… with the right training, the right information… the _perfect_ future Hunters.”

“I am not sure our definition of _perfect_ is the same.”

“Could you imagine if we could fuse the Argent bloodline with the Aleksy… we could rule the world together, Stiles. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“Again, I am not really sure we have the same definitions here.”

There are only a few more feet before I am at the symbol and that’s when everything goes to hell yet again. I must have made some kind of wrong move, because suddenly Gerard pulls his gun and points it straight at me no hesitation whatsoever.

“Now, Stiles, what are you doing with that nice knife of yours? You wouldn’t be thinking of breaking the symbol now, would you?”

Then I realize he must have seen the ceremonial knife I ‘borrowed’ from Deaton in my inner pocket. My heart starts rocketing off again, because I know what comes know and I have no idea how I am going to get out of this mess.

“Any last words, Stiles?”

“You aren’t going to get away with this, Gerard.”

“Oh, you know we are Stiles, because we just found you and your poor boyfriend after you had been torn to shreds by the animals. No one is going to notice the little bullet wound… too much damage to see it.”

The second from he pulls the trigger to the bullet hits me feels like the fastest and the longest moment of my life. I somehow manage to move so the bullet doesn’t hit my chest or stomach, but my leg inside, which hurts like hell, but means that I don’t pass out from the pain.

Only, Gerard and Kate don’t seem to notice me all that much, because the second the bullets hits me and my blood makes contact with the air, Derek smells it and he _completely loses it._ He starts roaring like crazy, which draws all the attention away from me and the fact that the bullet didn’t actually kill me like he planned.

I know what I have to do know, but the pain is making my vision a little blurry and my hands shake, because I am losing blood faster than I would like. I grab the knife from my inner pocket and smear some of my blood onto it, before I start crawling towards the symbol, but it takes _too long_. The wound is slowing me down and I don’t know if I am going to make it before they notice the mountain ash barrier isn’t down, which means that I am still breathing.

Right when I make it to the center Gerard turns around looking furious and seeing me with the blood covered knife in my hand doesn’t seem to make it any better. I can feel my muscles beginning to protest and my vision is filled with black spots.

My grip on the knife tights before Gerard can raise his gun again and I force the knife down into the middle of the symbol. The instant the knife pierces the ground, the symbol starts glowing again and it sends a burst of energy out that actually lifts me off the ground and sends everybody but Derek flying. The mountain ash barrier really does protect against a lot of things.

It isn’t until I see Gerard and Kate lying completely still that I realize what has happened. It is also the same time Derek manages to escape the barrier and he runs straight for me. I can barely keep my eyes open and the bullet wounds hurts more than anything else I have experienced in my life.

“Stiles! Stiles, what the hell were you thinking?”

Then he proceeds to grab some sort of cloth and push it into the bullet wound on my leg to stop the bleeding, which is a good idea, but a little warning would have been nice, because it hurts like a freaking bitch! It actually takes my breath away for a second.

“I knew it would take a lot of energy to break the spell… blood magic does that, but I didn’t expect it to feel like this, but then again I didn’t plan on getting shot… it feels like it is draining me of everything, but I don’t mind… as long as everybody is safe…”

The skinwalkers seem to be gathering around Kate and Gerard’s bodies and after one of them checks on Gerard, they don’t seem all that pleased. I don’t really blame them; if somebody had taken control over me I would have wanted revenge too.

“Why the hell are they dead!?”

Derek looks questioning down at me and I nod. I know what happened. I read about in the book, when whoever wrote it explained the dangers of magic, some of which I am experiencing right now.

“They put too much of their energy into the spell for the symbol… they didn’t understand how to balance the spell probably, which isn’t really a problem… unless someone breaks it. Then all that excess energy is slammed right back into your body and normal humans can’t handle that; it kills them… that’s why they’re dead.”

Derek manages to pull me into his lap with the one arm he isn’t using to push the cloth into my wound (which still hurts like a bitch) and then proceeds to rub his chin up against the top of my head as if he is trying to convince himself I am actually here.

“When the mountain ash barrier broke… I thought I had _lost_ _you_ , Stiles…”

“The barrier broke because I used up all off my energy for the spell… that’s the only other way to break the damn thing.”

“Don’t ever do that again… you can’t just go storming in on your own; let the rest of us do a little of the heavy lifting.”

“I will try and remember that for the next time.”

“You would think getting shot would scare some of the sarcasm out of you.”

“Oh, you know me; that is never going to happen.”

I actually manage to get a laugh out of him, even if he pulls me in even tighter. I am not going to start complaining though, because how can you complain when the guy you are crazy about actually cares about you. _Derek_ actually really cares about me.

“You would have gotten killed for me, if I hadn’t done it…”

“I know why you did it, Stiles. I knew the second you threw the damn mountain ash, it just doesn’t mean I am going to like it. I want you to let me protect you; I need that.”

“I guess we have a lot of talking to do when we finally get out of this place.”

“Please tell me you actually remembered to bring your phone…”

Right then we can hear sirens in the distance and I can help to thank whoever I am supposed to thank for calling my dad even if he is going to tear me a new one when he finds us and I still don’t know how the hell I am going to explain this one to my dad.

“Looks like someone did the work for me.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he still can’t hold back the smile. Yes, I know I am too damn awesome not to love. Then I remember the skinwalkers… something I really don’t want to explain.

“Derek, we need to get the skinwalkers the hell out of here before my dad gets here…”

“Oh no! Don’t you dare think you can just send us off without explaining why the hell we just _all_ had a freaking blackout and woke up standing in the middle of the freaking preserve somehow knowing that we were freaking _controlled_ by those two _psychopaths_!”

“I _promise,_ we _will_ explain _everything_ when this calms down, but we can’t explain skinwalkers and spells for mind control to the local police force without telling the entire world about us which would mean the _psychopaths_ plan worked, so get the hell out of here and cover your tracks as well as you can.”

Derek taking charge reminds me of Derek throwing around Scott without a shirt on, so somehow that connection makes Derek taking charge way hotter than it should have been in this situation. I am sure I shouldn’t be getting fuzzy feelings after I have been shot period.

It does the job though, because the skinwalkers are on their way a few seconds later even if someone of them doesn’t look all that pleased with them. I wonder if I know any of them. The general darkness, skinwalker features and general panicky situation made sure I haven’t been able to recognize any of them.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes after the last skinwalkers are out of here my dad and his deputies make it through the trees. You can tell they don’t know how the hell they are supposed to react to any of this. I don’t even know what the hell it looks like, but I know we need to stick as close to the truth without telling the truth or this is going to be some unmanageable lies to keep track off.

The second my dad sees me he is running and I don’t mean jogging I mean sprinting as if his life depended on it. Derek pulls back a little so he can hug me, which seems to calm him down. That and the fact that I am conscious seem to do wonders.

“What the hell happened here, kid? How bad is that wound anyway? How much have you bleed? Do you think the bullet hit any major vessels?”

“We have two bodies, boss!”

“ _Gerard and Kate Argent are dead?!”_

“Yes, no apparent injuries.”

“Does this have something to do with you getting shot, Stiles?”

God, I just really wish I had passed out before they got here because all those damn questions are giving me a headache and this pain is really starting to make me cranky.

“Just calm the fuck down _dad!_ Call a god damn ambulance, because I deserve the _good pain meds_ right about now. I really do deserve them, because _it freaking hurts!_ ”

“The ambulances are on their way, we called them before we came here… now, what the hell happened to not doing anything stupid?”

“How was I supposed to know he would have a gun?!”

“So Gerard was the one who shot you?”

“Yes, he didn’t like me showing up very much… Derek showed up right after he shot me and _something_ ran over those guys… I have no idea what it was, but I just really want the pain meds right now, please?”

It doesn’t seem to please him much, he actually only looks like he is getting angry by the second. It might just be worry and frustration but right now I don’t really have the energy to tell the difference. I don’t really want to tell the difference because they feel the same directed at you.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are that Scott called and said you had run off to this place because you had solved the damn case without telling anybody where you went?”

“I know…”

“And you better have some explanation than something ran them over, because we have two dead people. Stiles.”

“ _I know!_ ”

“And I am just really happy you’re okay, son.”

“Me too.”


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe A Question of Trust is officially finished. I have spent the last four months write this story and I have loved hearing what you guys think, so thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks, it means everything to know you like it.  
> The next part of the series is going to be called A Question of Truth and I hopefully be posting the first chapter about a week into June when my exams are over and everything has calmed down a bit, because my life has been WAY too stressful the last couple of weeks/months.  
> I really hope you like this last part, because it is far longer than I expected when I started writing it and I hope you will continue to follow the series <3
> 
> Tell me if I need to add any tags or warnings  
> Stay safe <3

About four hours later, I am waking up in a hospital bed with my leg uncomfortably bandaged and sown together. Even if I remember the doctors putting me under before rolling me into surgery to remove the bullet, it still takes me a few seconds to pieces it together and realize the anesthetics is why I am feeling so drowsy.

It takes me even longer to realize that one of my dad’s young deputies are sitting next to my looking like he is about to shit himself, probably because he has the responsibility of looking after the Sheriff’s unruly son. I am not sure I would like watching over me either.

When he finally realizes I have woken up, he starts looking around in some sort of panic before pushing some sort of button by my bed that I am assuming alerts the doctors, because the next thing I know one of the doctors I remember before the surgery arrives. He instantly hands me a glass of water before I even manage to ask for it, which is probably a good thing, because I doubt I would be able to say all that much right now.

“Now, how are you doing, Mr. Stilinski?”

“Uncomfortable as hell, but beside that I feel fine.”

“I will have the nurse come in with some pain medication for you as soon as I leave. Do you feel up to answering some of the deputy’s questions, I know he is quite anxious to get your statement?”

The deputy actually looks embarrassed when the doctor mentions it, but I am guessing he has had quite the night and my dad has told him he can’t leave until he has taken my statement leaving him to watch over me while he takes care of whatever it is he takes care of in these situations.

“If I do, does it mean I get to go home sooner?”

“Anxious to get home in our own bed are we?”

“No offense doctor, but this place sucks.”

“No offense taken; no one likes being in the hospital all that much. I will try and see what I can do about getting you home, but I need to run a few tests before we can let you go, okay?”

I nod while he removes some of the bandage to inspect the wound which looks about as nasty as you would expect a bullet wound to look, but he seems happy when I can feel all the ridiculous poking he does around the wound and that I am able to use my leg without any unexpected pain. Then a nurse comes in and takes a blood sample before handing over the pain medication I have been longing for since I opened my eyes. Now I just have to wait for it to actually work.

After they have left me and the dear nervous deputy alone, I turn my head and looks at him, which doesn’t really seem to make the nerves any better.

“You wanted to ask me some questions?”

“Right, I need to take your statement, but I am guessing you know how procedure is.”

“You are guessing right. We should probably get this over with before the pain medication kicks in and knocks me out like a light.”

“Now, I need you to explain what happened earlier this evening.”

And then I am right back at my earlier dilemma; how the hell do explain what happened without actually explaining what happened. I am pretty sure if I mentioned skinwalkers right now he would be running away screaming; his nerves are actually starting to make me nervous.

“Ever since Ms. Davis disappeared I have been trying to figure out what happened to her, because she had told me she knew what those symbols meant and then the next thing I knew she had disappeared or been kidnapped, I don’t know, but I figured it might be connected. Then when the Mayor was attacked, I figured he might have known something he was supposed to. That’s when I found out the symbols were connected to Native American Folklore but we didn’t understand the meaning… and with we, I mean Derek Hale and me; he helped me a little with the whole symbol thing; he has a Ph.D. in Native American Folklore just FYI.

But anyway that’s when Gerard showed up in town making strange comments and being elected Mayor, which he totally threatened people for by the way. That’s not important; I need to get back to the subject. Right, then I realized that the second symbol, the only one we hadn’t been able to place, was actually the Argents family symbol and I realized they might be involved. That’s when I found some sort of description of some ancient ritual and I realized they needed to do one last symbol before whatever they thought they were doing would be completed. I just didn’t know when or where, because how the hell do figure out that kind of thing.

But anyway, yesterday at Lydia Martin’s birthday party Danny Mahealani made a comment about the old tree out in the preserve and I realized that would be where they would do the last symbol, because of all the legends about the tree being magical or whatever, which fit in perfectly with the Native American Folklore and it was a full moon yesterday, which is supposed all magical too. So I started making my way out there after I had called Derek and told him where I was going. I wasn’t really thinking or at least I hadn’t thought it through concerning what I would find when I got out there, because Gerard Argent _really_ wasn’t happy with me showing up.

That’s when they started doing the whole evil monologue thing explaining what they had been planning and I think they _must_ have had some sort of _psychosis_ involving Native American folklore and skinwalkers they needed to kill, because they seemed to think whatever ritual they were doing would do _something_ to skinwalkers. I didn’t really understand it, but Gerard ended up shooting me because I had gotten to close to the symbol they had been doing. Thankfully it was only in the leg and it was right after that Derek showed up and he quickly got pressure on it.

That was when _something_ ran over those guys… I don’t know what the hell it was or what happened really, because by then the pain were kind of making everything slightly fuzzy. I remember my dad arriving about five to ten minutes later, but please don’t hang me up on the timeline; I have never been particularly good with time.

Ms. Davis and the Mayor had connected the Argents to the symbols and that’s why they were disposed of, because they didn’t want them revealing their secret. Kate and Gerard were also behind the Hale Murders by the way; they pinned the entire thing on some sort of serial killer, but they admitted to it when Derek arrived… seemed proud of it too. Do you have any more questions?”

I have no idea what is going through the deputy’s head, but at least he doesn’t look like he is thinking about admitting me to psych ward, which I am counting as a plus right now. I don’t think I would handle the whole being cooped up thing very well.

“That’s one hell of a deduction there, Stiles.”

“Well, I take after my dad. He’s in law enforcement.”

The dear Deputy actually seems genuinely impressed with what I have done and if it wasn’t for the bullet wound I probably would be more proud of solving the whole thing than I am right now.

“But please promise you aren’t going to do anything like this again, Stiles… I don’t think I could handle another round of your dad’s moods. He always gets them when he is worried about you…”

I actually feel bad for the Deputy, because right when he makes his delightful comment about my dad, he walks through the door looking less than impressed with his employee. The Deputy doesn’t look all that pleased about it either, he honestly looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole and I can’t really blame him. My dad is known for being a tough boss.

“Now, dad, please don’t hold anything against the Deputy; you know I can make anybody lose their mind when I get started.”

He doesn’t look any more impressed with my comment than he did with the Deputy’s, but at least his focus isn’t on the poor guy anymore, so mission accomplished for now. My dad does seem a little calmer when he sees me sitting up awake, but seeing your kid being shot even if it is just in leg can’t be fun. I don’t know what I would have done if it had been my dad being shot.

“Deputy, why don’t you take the rest of the night off and finish the rapport tomorrow after you have gotten some sleep; you look like you could use a couple of hours. I will look after Stiles now.”

The poor guy looks so revealed, I am pretty sure he might actually have started running as soon as he got out in the hallway. Then again it is a hospital, so he might have waited with the running until he got outside.

“You look better than the last time I saw you, kid.”

“Well, there was this nice nurse who brought some of the nice pain medication I was asking for so I am starting to feel all nice and floaty, so I am good.”

“Has the doctor said anything?”

“Not really, but he seemed pleased when he did all the poking and prodding earlier, so I think I am good. They took some blood though, so we will have to wait and see.”

As if he knew we had been talking about him, the doctor actually shows up five minutes later with my chart looking a little too pleased with himself. He shakes hands with my dad introducing himself as my doctor. He apparently did the surgery, which I hadn’t realized the first time he came into my room, but then again it does make sense for him to check up on his work.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski, I won’t try pronouncing your first name, I have enough experience to know that it won’t end well.”

“Good choice.”

“Thank you. Now you have been incredibly lucky, the bullet managed to hit nothing major or minor really beside some muscle tissue that I have confidence will manage to heal fairly well or at least well enough that you won’t be bothered with it in your everyday life if you do the assigned exercises. Because we will expect you to see a physiotherapist for a few weeks to make sure everything is working probably and regain you’re the muscle strength in your leg.

Despite you being a lucky young man, you do need to stay off the leg as much as possible and if you have to move around you need to use the crutches we will be sending home with you. I will also be prescribing some serious pain medication, which does have some addictive tendencies, so only take the appropriate dosage.”

“But can I go home now?”

“If you promise to stay off your leg and come in for a checkup in forty-eight hours, then yes you can go home. But you need to make sure your wound stays clean and the bandage changed regularly, so we can avoid infections. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Stay off my leg, take the pain medications, but not anymore than I am supposed to, come in for checkup in forty-eight hours and clean the wound and rebandage it regularly.”

“I will have the nurse bring in the discharge formula; once that is filled out your father can bring you home, but please don’t leave him alone for too long. He has just been in surgery.”

“Don’t worry, doctor, I will watch him like a hawk.”

When my dad told the doctor he would watch me like a hawk, I didn’t actually think he meant he would watch me _every damn second_. I seriously had to push him out of the door when I had to use the freaking toilet, because apparently I have to prove I can still pee before going home.

Then they have to force feed me some ice cream that might be the worst ice cream in the history of ice cream and how the hell do you even ruin ice cream? That is one of the few things that you can’t ruin and they somehow have.

My level of tiredness might be influencing my patience and my grumpiness, but I don’t care, because I get to go home now. It right when we are on our way out the door, I realize that I haven’t seen or heard anything from Derek since I woke up from the surgery. It makes me feel horrible that I didn’t think of him before now.

“Dad?”

“Yes, what is it, kid?”

“Do you know where Derek is? I remember him being here before I went into surgery, but…”

“I sent him home, kid. He looked like he might rip an arm off anybody who as much as thought about touching you and the doctors had to do their job. He wasn’t too happy about it, but I promised he could see you tomorrow, so he eventually made his way home to get some sleep. The guy really cares about you kid.”

“Yes, I know… I am lucky. I am probably going to text him when I get my phone… so he knows that I am okay.”

“I think he would be happy about that, kid.”

 

* * *

 

When we finally arrive at the house I have gone from feeling ready to pass out from exhaustion to too wired to even think about sleeping. My mind has gone into overdrive and I can already predict what is going to be a very uncomfortable night’s sleep.

“Now kid, how are you feeling? Are you ready to sleep for a couple of hours?”

“Not really… I don’t understand it, but I feel so damn wired I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to. Are you going to catch a few hours before your shift tomorrow?”

“I am taking the day off after everything that happened. What do you say about talking a little? I think we might both need to talk about what happened tonight.”

It is a strange time for a heart to heart, but with me and my dad I don’t think there is going to be a better time than now. We have never been much for talking, well, I do a lot of talking, but I don’t really talk about things.

Before we do any talking, though, my dad makes sure I am as comfortable as humanly possible on the couch with my leg up in the position the nurse spent what felt like forever explaining. Then he sits in the chair opposite me looking like he doesn’t know what to do next.

“Dad, we don’t have to do this now, if you don’t feel up to it…”

“No, no, I _want_ to do this, Stiles. I think I might actually need to do this, because… I have felt like I let you down as a parent ever since your mother left and I… started drinking. When I finally realized how much I had been hurting you, a part of me thought I might as well let you live your own life… I have hurt you _so much_ …”

“I don’t _care_ about all those things, dad. I really don’t, because… I just need _my dad_.”

I don’t know how is more surprised by my outburst, me or my dad. It doesn’t make it any less true, because I do need my dad. I have needed my dad for a really long time; I just haven’t been ready to admit it to myself or anybody else.

“I have been depressed, dad, and I don’t think _anybody_ actually noticed… not even Scott who is supposed to be my best friend and I think it might have been why Scott and I have been fighting… because he has been too busy to be my friend for a while now. Not that I blame him, I can’t really blame him for any of it and I don’t blame you either.”

“Stiles…”

“No, you need to listen to what I am saying. I _choose_ not to get help, dad, I choose to keep it to myself even if it would destroy me, so most of the responsibility falls on me. I _knew_ _better_.”

“Do you think you need help to handle this, because I can’t force you to see someone?”

“I thought about going to see the school psychologist once, but he couldn’t force face the reason for my depression, I couldn’t face the abandonment I was feeling, but _I need to see someone_. I need help to get better, even if I am doing better right now...”

Then my dad comes over and he holds my hands in his. He looks like he is about to cry and I don’t blame him, because my eyes are teary too. It’s rough telling my dad about these emotions, it’s rough facing what I have been feeling, because I don’t know if I am going to keep being better or I am going to go back to how I was before the whole mystery thing could take my minds of it. Just the thought that all those emotions might come back full strength scares me.

“You probably don’t know this, but Ms. Morrell from the library has a degree in psychology, she helps us profile criminals whenever we need it and I know you have always had a good relationship with her, so would you consider going to see her?”

“Yeah, I will.”

It’s probably good that Ms. Morrell already knows about all the supernatural stuff or everything that has happened the last couple of weeks would have been a bitch to explain and I don’t feel like having anxiety about explaining things to psychologist. I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work either. It certainly wouldn’t help.

 

* * *

 

After sitting around talking about nothing for thirty minutes, my stomach decides to make everybody aware of its existence by rumbling rather loudly repeatedly. My dad sends me a look that clearly says ‘you can’t seriously be hungry right now’.

“It’s in the middle of the night, Stiles.”

“Actually, it’s almost morning…”

“Stiles…”

“I am hungry, dad!”

“I guess letting you starve wouldn’t be great parenting…”

Then my dad starts gathering his coat and his wallet before making it towards the door. When he opens it we both get a mild shock because Scott is standing on the other side looking like his usual puppy self. He is actually quite adorable when he wants someone.

“Jesus, Scott, what the hell are you doing here at this hour!”

“I went to the hospital but they told me Stiles had been discharge, so I wanted to come by and see him. My mom called me and told me what happened, but she didn’t know how bad the bullet wound was so I was worried…”

“Calm down, kid, it’s fine. I actually wanted to thank you for having enough common sense to call me, when my own son didn’t.”

“Dad!”

“You and I both know that going in without back up is a stupid idea, Stiles!”

“Yes…”

I really hate when he is right, it makes me feel like I am five years old again and he lecturing me about not climbing to high in the trees because of my slight problem with physical coordination, meaning I had a tendency to fall down from them.

“Actually, Stiles is the brilliant one really; I figured it all out when the rest of us couldn’t.”

“Yeah, he is quite special. Why don’t you watch him while I get breakfast or dinner or what the hell this is supposed to be?”

“I don’t need watching!”

“I will pretend he didn’t say that and expect you to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Then my dad leaves and I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself, because when the hell did my dad develop a sense of humor and the ability to actually use sarcasm. Scott sits down in the chair my dad just left and he has gone from looking like a confused puppy to a kicked puppy and I really prefer the confused puppy because the kicked puppy makes me feel bad for him.

“I wanted to apologize again for not being a better friend to you…”

“Scott, we talked about this…”

“No, I want to say this. I have been a shitty friend and I want to do better, but I might need you to tell me when I suck, because I am not good at noticing. Plus, you helped me with Allison… we are actually working through things now and her dad has promised not to hurt me.”

“Scott, just the fact that you have to say that sentence…”

“I know, it is fucked up, but… I am going to fight for her.”

I imagine this is a little bit like watching your kid grow up, the pride you feel when they do something and you just want to hug them and tell them they did good. Because it feels like Scott has done a lot of growing up even if he has a long way to go yet. I still don’t know what to think about her dad, because he still gives me the creeps, not in the way Gerard or Kate did, but every time he is around I get the feeling that he could kill me at any given second. It’s unnerving.

“Honestly, Scott, I don’t want the apology, I just want my best friend back and by that I don’t mean the shit one who has been around lately, but the real one who had my back when I needed him, because I think I might really need him the next couple of months. Me and my dad have decided that I am going to see a psychologist about everything that has been going on with me and it is probably late considering how much damage everything with my parents has done, but I still want to get better… for my dad, you… and Derek.”

“I have your back… even if you and Derek are still weird.”

“Yeah, but he is good for me.”

“He is.”

 

* * *

 

The whole staying awake thing, it doesn’t last long, because my body finally realizes that it needs to sleep and it needs to sleep now. Then a couple of hours later a sharp burst of pain lets me know that it’s time for the next round of painkillers.

When I start yelling for Scott to bring me my damn painkillers it becomes very obvious that my dear friend is nowhere to been seen and I am seriously considering tearing him a new one until I see a note by my crutches that lets me know that he had to go to the station for his statement and he didn’t want to wake me.

Then I can’t really justify being pissed, because I notice the glass of water and painkillers laid out next to the nice little note and my phone. He actually did try to be a good friend.

My phone ringing probably shouldn’t come as such a big shock, but it does and it actually takes me a couple of seconds to remember that I need to pick it out. The caller ID says it’s my dad, so it’s probably just him calling to make sure I am still breathing.

“Hi dad.”

“Hi Stiles, how are you feeling?”

“A little achy, but I have just taken my pain meds, so that will hopefully get better sooner.”

“Did you manage to catch a bit of sleep?”

“Yes… is this really why you are calling?”

The silence on the other end lets me know that it isn’t. That he doesn’t just tell me what this is about scares me, because it’s never anything good when they tell you like this. It never is.

“Dad, just tell me already!”

“Stiles, they found Ms. Davis…”

“Please tell me she isn’t dead…”

“They found her in Gerard’s basement, but she is _fine_ as far as I know, a bit dehydrate but fine.”

It feels like I can finally breathe again. I didn’t even realize how worried I had been about Ms. Davis until now; until I know that she is going be alright. Even now I can’t help the nagging feeling that I should have done more to find her instead of only focusing on solving the mystery.

The only thing I can focus on is that I need to see her; I need to see that she is actually okay. I don’t know how the hell I am going to actually _get there_ seeing as I am in no condition to actually walk let alone drive a car, but I am going to make it.

“Stiles, what are you thinking?”

“I need to see her, dad.”

“And you will, I will even drive you to the hospital when I get home, okay?”

“No, dad, I need to see her _now_. You need to come pick me up now!”

“Stiles, you sound like a spoiled brat, right now.”

“And I don’t care! Ms. Davis always made sure I was okay and I now I need to do the same. She is my _friend_ and she might be _fine_ but I _need to see it for myself!_ ”

Then I hear the sigh that lets me know that he is going to give in. It’s been the same way since I was a child and I probably shouldn’t be acting like this right now seeing as my dad probably has more than enough to do, but I have a freaking bullet wound; I get to be a little crazy.

“Look, I am going to send someone, because I can’t leave the station right and your jeep might be in the garage, but you aren’t getting anywhere near that thing until the doctors have cleared you.”

“The jeep’s fixed!”

“Yes, the mechanic dropped it off yesterday afternoon; I just forgot to tell you.”

“I don’t care… just _thank you_ , dad.”

“Just stay safe, kid. I will see you later.”

“I will see you.”

 

* * *

 

The next five minutes are spend finding a shirt to change into because I am still wearing the one the hospital gave me and then remembering where the hell I left my phone, because apparently being shot and on pain meds makes me unable to remember anything.

When I finally manage to find the damn thing, I can hear someone drive up to the house, so I grab my backpack before ‘running’ out of the house. It can’t technically be called running because I am not really moving that fast and I am doing it on crutches.

As soon as I have gotten past the front door I realize who my dad called; _Derek_! I can’t believe it, but I am not going to complain, because I can’t say I don’t want to see him. Honestly, the damn crutches are the only thing keeping me from throwing myself in his arms.

The smile on Derek’s face when he sees me makes my heart flutter and my breath catch, because he just looks absolutely gorgeous when he smiles. That just settles it and I hurry over to him before dropping the crutches and throwing my arms around his neck.

“Would it be cheesy if I told you I missed you?”

“It would, but I missed you too.”

Then he runs his finger over my cheekbone before kissing me. It doesn’t last more than a few seconds and our lips barely touch, but it still makes me feel all kinds of warm inside. There is just something about this guy that makes me feel… right.

Derek then proceeds to help me into the car before dropping my crutches on the backseat and getting into the car himself. I still can’t believe my dad actually _called Derek_!

“My dad actually called you?”

“Yeah, we had a long talk last night that involved your dad threating me with bodily harm and something involving no one finding my dead body if I ever do anything you don’t agree with one hundred percent. I must have made an impression, I guess.”

“He does know I am a teenager, right? I am pretty sure most of what you could do to me I would be perfectly fine with.”

“He is your dad, Stiles, just be happy that he cares enough to threaten someone on your behalf.”

“Yeah, I know I am lucky.”

Looking over at Derek, I can’t help but smile. Just the idea of sitting next to an unbelievably gorgeous guy who actually wants to be with me would have been unbelievable a few weeks ago. It is strange how right it feels sitting next to him with his hand holding mine while looking incredibly cute and focused at the road ahead.

Somehow this guy I have only known for such a short time has done something I didn’t think possible. Somehow he has managed to help me put the pieces of my shattered life back together and somehow the fragile pieces of broken glass that have been my life for so long fit together in this perfect stain glass motive. Somehow everything is starting to make sense.

 

* * *

 

When we arrive at the Argent house it is very obvious that the deputies and Ms. Davis aren’t really seeing eye to eye. As we come close I can hear her refusing to go to the hospital to be checked up by a doctor, because she is insisting she wants Deaton to do her checkup instead.

The deputies don’t look like they are too happy about that idea and they sure as hell don’t look like they know what to do about it, because they can’t really send an elderly lady who has been held captured by a crazy person for days to the local veterinarian.

“She needs to see a doctor for God’s sake!”

“Hallo deputies, you seem to be having problems with this wonderful lady.”

“Stiles Stilinski, such a charmer. Now please explain to these young gentlemen that Deaton can’t handle my checkup, because I am not going anywhere near that hell hole they call a hospital.”

It takes me a few seconds not to start laughing uncontrollably at the deputies’ expressions when Ms. Davis calls the hospital a hell hole. Derek seems to share my sentiment if his raised eyebrows are any indication. Oh, how I missed this woman.

“Now, I am assuming you have already done the most critical test like saturation of the blood, pH levels, ECG and so on, so checking Ms. Davis if there is anything _physically_ wrong with her it should be something Deaton would be able to handle?”

“Yes, but…”

“I will even go with her to Deaton’s and make sure nothing is wrong, hell, I will drive her to the hospital himself if Deaton finds anything slightly alarming. Well, not myself, I will make Derek do the driving, seeing as me driving wouldn’t make any situation better at this point.”

“You promise you will take responsibility for her?”

“Yes, I promise I will make sure she isn’t putting herself in any unnecessary danger by refusing to be checkout probably.”

The deputies still aren’t really happy about the situation, but I think they have realized protesting isn’t going to make her go to a doctor. I am not even sure dragging here to the hospital would make her see a doctor at this point, so this is as close as any of us is going to get.

 

* * *

 

Deaton’s clinic is completely abandoned expect for his animals and himself. It looks like absolutely no one has been by today, but Deaton doesn’t seem all that alarmed. He strangely enough doesn’t look all that surprised to see Ms. Davis either, it is almost like he expected her to show up.

“Well, Ms. Davis, for a hostage I have to say you look stunning.”

“Now, ssch, dear Alan, we don’t have time for flattery. I need you to make sure nothing is wrong with me, I couldn’t really have them do this at the hospital.”

“What are you talking about?”

As soon as the words have left my limps, Deaton has hand some sort of crystal to Ms. Davis and the second the stone touches her skin it starts glowing in this strange green light. I really don’t know if I should be alarmed or relieved by this, but Deaton looks pleased, so I am guess this whole glowing crystal thing is a good thing.

When Ms. Davis puts the crystal down it stops glowing and she looks like someone who has had a good twelve hours of sleep and put on nicely ironed clothes. Her appearance is _flawless_ and the only explanation I have for whatever is going on here is _magic_.

“Ms. Davis, is there something you haven’t told me?”

“Well, you see Mr. Stilinski; I am what you would call a mage.”

“So you have magic?”

“Yes, I do have magic, but it is a different kind that yours, but I am connected to nature in some of the same ways. In fact, I have made the decision to officially start your training, you have some great potential breaking the spell the way you did without any guidance _and_ you used mountain ash. So you might be an idiot for going up against the bastard on your own, but you’re a talented idiot, so now we just have to rid you of the idiot part.”

I really don’t know if I should be offended or pleased right about now. Despite everything I have done, I know I need _a lot_ of help learning how to control whatever this magic of mine is. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I leave myself vulnerable the way I was last night.

Things could have ended a lot different if only Gerard had turned around a few seconds earlier or if he had had better aim. I could have been dead right now, because I have no idea how to control this power of mine and I have too much to lose right now to do that.

“How do you know about my abilities?”

“I knew your mother or should I say, I knew of your mother’s ancestry. And as a mage I do have the ability to sense the gift in others, you Sparks just feel a little different than the rest of us.”

I am about to ask what she means by that when the front door is opened and Chris Argent steps through the door. My first instinct is to get the hell away from him, because I don’t really have a good track record with Argents and seeing as you could argue that I am responsible for the death of his sister and father I am not really sure if he wants me alive.

Derek is actually growling and I am pretty sure he is going to rip Chris’ throat out if he steps any closer. For the sake of avoiding a bloodbath, Chris luckily senses the same thing and stops moving closer to any of us. Ms. Davis is the only one who looks anything close to calm.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Now, now, Mr. Hale, I asked him to come.”

“Excuse me? What are you talking about Ms. Davis?”

“Now, you probably don’t know this, Mr. Stilinski, but those symbols Gerard and Kate Argent were using have been banned among hunters for centuries. The Argent family was actually one of the strongest supporters of the ban. Unfortunately, Gerard didn’t share the same opinion as the rest of the Argent family.”

“This is why I am here to apologize to all of you for my family’s behavior…”

“Apologize! They freaking tried to murder all of us and expose the entire skinwalker community to the world, so they could commit genocide!”

Every kind of anger is flowing through my body, because how can this man think that just saying sorry is going to fix _anything_ after what his family put all of us through, not to mention the terror and pain they caused all those skinwalkers who had no idea what they were.

God! I just want to punch him in the face!

“Why don’t you just leave all of us alone and take all of you problems with you, because we don’t want you around and we don’t need you!”

“My father might not have gotten along with your mother, but I did. We were actually good friends, Stiles. In fact, I believe I might be one of the few people if not the only one who know that you and your mother belong to the Aleksy line.”

My head starts spinning because _what_? My mother and Chris Argent were friends? I don’t really know to wrap my mind around that one, because that is one friendship I can’t really imagine. It does seem to mean something to Deaton, because he actually looks impressed, which does ease my nerves, but I still don’t really trust the guy as far as I can throw him and that isn’t exactly far.

“I would actually like to make you an offer, Stiles. Considering your family, you will need to learn to defend yourself, so I would like offer my help with your physical training and any help in the future if it is needed.”

What is with everybody and deciding that I need training? Fine, Ms. Davis training me I can handle, but the thought of spending hours with Chris Argent makes me uneasy. Just the thought of being anywhere near Chris Argent makes me uneasy and I have no idea what I am supposed to tell him. Plus, my damn leg is starting to act up and the pain is making me lightheaded and cranky.

Deaton is no help and Ms. Davis looks a little too pleased with herself, so I can’t help but think she might be the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, which does sit right with me. So the only impartial person in the room is standing next to me growling slightly less than before.

I turn to Derek, who looks at me before getting this frustrated look on his face and pulling me straight towards the chair in the corner. He is a great help, but I don’t appreciate the manhandling.

“I am fine!”

“Stiles, I can smell you pain so just accept the damn help!”

That shuts me up, but it sure as hell is going to stop me from pouting. Derek is great for taking care of me, but I just wish he would do _differently_. I don’t need someone to yell at me; I have got my dad for that. I need him to support me and to call me on my bullshit.

“Okay, I am sorry for yelling, but I worry about you.”

He kisses me lightly, before hugging me tightly. He is probably scared he is going to lose me to the Argents the way he lost his entire family; I can’t really blame him for being on edge.

“I know… what do you think about… you know?”

“The Argents might be crazy, but he seems to be telling the truth. He actually wants to help you and we might need whatever help we can get in the future. We don’t know what is going to happen next, but the stories about what you did are going to circulate and that kind of attention isn’t always a good thing in the supernatural community.”

It makes sense, everything he is saying makes sense, but I still don’t want it to be true. I just want to put everything that happened behind me and never think about it again, but logically I know that is never going to happen. After this I have been pulled into something I am never going to be able to get free off.

Despite the danger I can’t help but accept it if it means that things can be the way they are between me and the people I love. My relationship with my dad and Scott haven’t been better in a really long time and I have got Derek now.

“You are going to be a great leader someday, Stiles.”

“And how do you know that, Deaton? Did a bunny tell you?”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I will let it pass this time. There has been a kind of prophecy in your family for centuries…”

“A prophecy? Are you kidding me?! There are _actually_ _prophecies_!”

“ _There will be a time of peace, the time of the boy who runs with wolves_.”

What does this even mean? And how do they even know that boy is me? I mean there are millions of boys out there and it could be _any_ of them. Why would _I_ be the boy? I am not exactly anything special. Sure I have got these weird magical powers I don’t really understand, but I can’t be that important, right?

“We only know parts of the rest of the prophecy, but we know that we are supposed to be your council, Stiles. We are supposed to be your guides and Derek is going to be your companion.”

“Companion? What does that even mean?”

“It means that you and Derek were destined to love each other?”

“Love?! Are you seriously telling me that I have no control over my love life?”

“Prophecies aren’t that simply Stiles. They are one version of the truth, but they can always be altered; they can always change…”

“This is giving me a headache…”

That’s when the door opens and a woman walks in. A woman with long dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes that I know all too well, because she looks exactly the same as the day she left. She looks exactly the same as the day she walked out on me.

“Mom…”


End file.
